


Aprille Shoures

by makingitwork



Series: Bughead Prompts [14]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Aphrodite Jughead, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, God Jughead, Goddess Cheryl, Greek and Roman Mythology - Freeform, Hades Toni, Happy Ending, Human Betty, M/M, Meet-Cute, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, bughead - Freeform, mortal Betty
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-11
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-06-09 01:48:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15256746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makingitwork/pseuds/makingitwork
Summary: Jughead, the God of love, beauty and sex is sent back to earth to find his muse.Betty, hard-working college student home for the summer, finds a naked man in the woods.





	1. Bestowed

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys, first multi chap in this fandom! I hope you guys love it! 
> 
> Enjoy! 
> 
> x

"Do you know how many mortals visited the statue of me this year?" Cheryl asked, the flaming tendrils of her hair casting wicked shadows onto the rhodium pillars of the love god's chambers. Her silken armour clung to every inch of her immense frame, as she crossed her arms and cocked her hip, examining the god on the bed when he didn't offer up an answer. "Have you become deaf, demigod?" She goaded; fire hissing and snapping with delight.

The harshness of her tone drew Jughead's lazy attention towards her. He was laying atop his enormous bed, with all the grace and beauty that Renaissance artists attempted to capture. The feathered blankets were heavy with food; grapes, wine, cocoa beans and venison on diamond dishes and crystal glasses, surrounding the god. Even though she was irritated with him, Cheryl knew he fit his purpose. God of love, desire, procreation, sexual attraction, lust, and beauty, he was a picture of sex before her, of primal urges and beauty. She'd seen him bring mortals to their knees with the emerald shamrock of his eyes. The marble snow of his skin was purer than the settled snow on Olympus and his hair was darker and bluer than the depths of the ocean. Her eyes roamed over his lithe body; the lean muscle and the effortless elegance over every limb. She knew that people often got lost in the beauty of him; driven mad with lust and desire. She'd had the pleasure of him, once or twice, in their many years of existence. She couldn't really think of a god who hadn't. Jughead, even without trying, inadvertently attracted all beings towards him. Gods and goddesses, sometimes together, had been lavished with his body. She was sure there had been a few decades where he'd simply orchestrated orgy after orgy- but they all had their foibled qualms. She'd been guilty herself of stirring up wars whenever she felt bored. "I am not a demigod, Cheryl," he sighed, reaching for the venison by his elbow. He ripped a piece of it between his fingers, and sucked it into his mouth. The goddess of war watched the way it stained his lips. "I was burst forth into creation perhaps even before you. I'm one of the oldest gods," he winked at her "you could show me some respect." 

She rolled her eyes, stalking towards the bed. When she was beside his head she stopped, leaning down to reach for some of the venison herself. She could feel his eyes on the swell of her breast, and she tempered down her desire for him. Once, long ago, was enough for her. For all his beauty, Jughead was a difficult god to truly make happy, and she wouldn't change herself for anyone. "Respect? Do you know how much I had to do to mend relations with Persephone, Jughead? She nearly sent Toni up here."

Jughead shrugged "Toni likes me. Didn't you hear? Death and sex, it's all..." he twirled his fingers in the air and a small whirlpool floated above his palm "...intertwined." 

Cheryl popped the venison into her mouth, humming thoughtfully at the taste. "I'm here on business, Jughead." 

He groaned, eyes fluttering shut. "Aren't you always?" 

"This is important." She barrelled on; swallowing. His eyes opened marginally to look up at her. "You've been in a slump lately, and a few of the other gods have noticed. I'm not sure if you've taken even a cursory glance at earth lately, but there isn't a lot of beauty to be had there." 

"There's a lot of sex, though." 

"You're not just the god of  _sex,_ Jughead. You need to go down to earth, view it for yourself, find your muse and come back and spread some beauty. You're being selfish, and that's coming from me. Me! Who had three hundred thousand people visit my statue this year. The me who caused all that stir in the Middle East and is being powered by the turmoil in Afghanistan. Olympus is beautiful enough, earth is in a lull." She could see the displeasure twisted onto his beautiful face, so she cleared a space beside his hip and sat down. She placed a hand onto his arm, and marvelled at the soft, appealing nature of his skin. Every part of him was designed for sex. "Do you remember when you inspired Classism, Neoclassicism? Romanticism? Even Impressionism? You bestowed Caravaggio with the skills and purpose of a century. Everyone adored you, Jughead. Humanity might have changed but they still value beauty and art, it's just different now. Hephaestus talks to me sometimes about something called photography." Her voice softened "you haven't spoken to the others in a while." 

He nodded, head tipping back in anguished pain. "You're right. There's something to be said for it all. But I have my reasons for steering clear of the other gods, take Persephone for example, she came to me seeking bestowing." 

Cheryl frowned; a worried expression painting its way onto her face. "She wanted you to increase her beauty?" She clarified.

He nodded, his midnight hair ruffling against the silken pillows. "I said no, of course. I was amazed. I sent the messenger to you, but I assume you never received Hermes. I can only assume the two of them are working together for something." 

The red head stood up, nodding at the information. "I don't like whatever they're planning. When I get to the bottom of it, and I will, I can safely say you'll be on my side?"

Jughead snorted delicately, hauling himself up to lean against the headboard. It made a few of the dishes tremble a little, but they kept their form. Cheryl took him in again, unsure when the next time she saw him would be. She was absolutely sure that the legend about him was true: that when he was conceived by the universe, all the existing gods bestowed him with something. They knew who he was supposed to be; what he would bring to the world. The god of the seas and the skies had given him his hair, Hephaestus is said to be responsible for his chiselled draw and supple body, Demeter his eyes...the list went on. "Not everything leads to war, Cheryl. I understand that's your niche, but..." He looked up at her, but she remained stoic and he sighed in surrender, giving up his attempt at humour for sincerity. "I'm always going to be on your side. You're Kratos, or Ares or Cheryl or whichever name you've decided for this century. If there's a war of the gods, I know who's side I'm going to be on." 

Cheryl smiled, tossing her fire curls over her glass shoulder. "As usual, your flattery works wonders. And you're right of course, whichever name I've decided, they all mean the same thing:  _Victory."_  She swiped her hand through the air, her red nails sharp as talons. "I could kill gods. I have killed gods.Besides, Cupid, Aphrodite, Eros- even Venus when you were going through your astronomical phase, if anyone's going to talk about names..." Jughead tipped his head in acquiescence, and Cheryl watched as he set the venison dish onto the snowy floor. "Does your desire extend to food?" She asked, a more playful tone in her voice, "because you seem more attracted to wine than Dionysus." 

"No," Jughead laughed, gaze simmering over Cheryl's form "I just like food. Dionysus definitely makes for a good dining companion, though. He's real competition." He reached out, fingers curling into her dress "if you don't have anywhere to be..." 

She smirked, rolling her eyes. "I'm in the middle of a very long, very messy courtship." 

"Toni, huh?" 

Cheryl nodded, pouring herself a small glass of wine and sipping at it. The ambrosia infused liquid burst along her tongue, before trickling down her throat. There was a lot to be done if Persephone was planning something, and with Jughead gone, she'd have to get help herself. It wasn't difficult exactly, but it was harder. Gods were more likely to do what Jughead asked; the allure of his body and the seduction of his words doing all the persuading for them. Cheryl liked Jughead, rather a lot. There were of similar ages, made in the same cluster of stars, and they often saw eye to eye on things. She remembered, in one of her fondest memories, the two of them orchestrating their own stir down on earth. Helen of Troy and the Trojan War. They'd lie on their clouds, watching amusedly, as Jughead coated the mortal woman with never-ending beauty, and Cheryl coaxed force and violence onto the surrounding territories. They'd made history together, the two of them. In her own way, Cheryl supposed she loved him. The thought drew her mind back to Toni. "Have you slept with her?" 

"Not full sex," he replied honestly "she did..." he gestured to his lower half. He cleared his throat, offering a tentative smile. "I'm sure it'll work out between the two of you. Imagine what you both could do- you igniting wars and her collecting the bodies. It's a win-win situation. Things are hectic down there in the Underworld at the moment, but you are the embodiment of fierceness and zeal. She'd be a fool of a god to say no. Her riches are nothing to your power." 

The war goddess could feel a tingling at the words, and she strode towards the door with a smirk. "Stop using your flattery on me, Jughead. And head to earth, okay? Shit's about to get real up here." 

He frowned at her back "is that a human thing?" He called, and her laughter echoed like thunder down the hallway; obscuring any answer she might have offered. Now she was gone, he knew she was right and could admit it. He'd long since abandoned earth after Adonis and the pain that had brought with him. But Cheryl was right. That had been over three hundred years ago, give or take, and he couldn't hide from it forever. Besides, photography, whatever it was seemed interesting enough. And the beauteous appeal of gods was waining after so long on Olympus. Yes, to earth he should go, he  _must_ go. Besides, they were long overdue another Renaissance. 

 

...

...

...

 

"Elizabeth, sweetheart, pass me that cloth," 

"Sure, mom," Betty smiled, stepping carefully over the newly washed sheepskin rug that was artistically draped over the dark wooden floors, and reaching for the cleaning cloth beside the telephone. She handed the cloth to her mother; watching as Alice Cooper began a final rub down of the dining room table. It was a huge, solid, heavy oak of a thing and was gleaming today under her mother's ministrations. In fact, the entire house was cleaner than Betty had ever seen it; her mom knew how to take spring cleaning to another level. She turned her gaze from the room towards the large windows, out into the roaming fields and distant forestry. Their house was a few miles outside of the town, closer to the open greenery and their closest neighbours by foot were some local farmers who always smiled warmly at Betty when she passed by. Her gaze lingered on the gentle cowing of the trees, and she turned back to her mother hopefully. "Hey mom, can I go for a walk before lunch? I'll make sure I'm back in time to help you set the table,"

Alice nodded, admiring the shine of the counter, and throwing the rag into the bin. "Sure honey, make sure you don't trek any mud back into the house."

"I won't," Betty chimed dutifully, grabbing her pink raincoat from the hook by the door, shrugging it over her shoulders and sliding into her beaten grey boots. It was chilly, but there was an enticing hint of warmth in the air, a promise for the heat to come. The stones crunched under her feet and she immediately hopped the fence into the grass. The forest was one of her favourite places to walk and think. The foliage was lush but thin and let in ample sunlight to guide her along the ferny floor of twigs and leaves. It made her feel safe and peaceful, there was even a small creek that trickled through it, and Betty liked to sit on one of the large, flat stones and write in her diary. Fragments of light strewn across her page and the breeze gentled by the tree trunks, sometimes barely there at all. It offered a stillness, as if it was apart from time and stress; immune from the mundane pressures of life. There were deer and rabbits aplenty, and though they scurried off when Betty crouched and tried to beckon them, that receded somewhat with time. Now there merely watched her with curiosity, hidden in the safety of their bushes. 

Today was no different, the second she entered the forest, stepping out of the sun into the shade of the wood, the coolness relaxed her. She fell into familiar footfalls, along her well-trodden path that ran parallel to the creek, separated from it by a few metres of tree lining, and dragged her hands along the stray leafs that jutting branches offered her. They were smooth along her palm, and she slowed her pace to amble peacefully along. The air was clear and the smell of mud and grass eased the tension from her shoulders. Oddly enough, she could smell roses in the air. "Oh, hello," she beamed when a rabbit scurried out in front of her. It paused in her path, nose twitching, and she crouched slowly, crooning to it. "Hello, cutie pie-"

There was an almighty splash from her right, from the creek, and it shook the ground with the force of its noise. Betty whirled around to stare into that direction but could see nothing but the sun-speckled trees. The rabbit starting sprinting towards the noise, and she frowned, slowly rising. Shouldn't the rabbit be running away? Was it an earthquake or...Curiosity started burning deep within her, and she pushed her way through the foliage, blue eyes burning bright to see what had just dropped into the forest.

Her boots reached the shallow part of the creek, as she pushed past the final trees towards the clearing where she often spent her days, and she froze. The creek had become a lake, no longer a singular stream but now a crystal blue that encompassed the entire clearing. Where once was mud and dirt, there was now a glittering pool of azure. The stones that she so often liked to sit on had disappeared beneath the surface. She realised now she was one of many animals standing around it, their eyes all locked on the same thing. The rabbit from earlier was beside her ankle, and there were foxes and deer there too. The trees were hanging heavy with robins, owls and bluejays and Betty felt as if she were in a Disney movie for all the animals, all silent and staring. 

The lake was not particularly deep, at least no deeper than the creek had been, and one stag was walking slowly through the water. It's long thin legs wading through the ripples, further and further till he was in the centre; with the figure. At it's depth, the stag's body was barely grazing the surface and Betty realised with a start that this wasn't a lake, but a puddle. A puddle created by the fall of the figure that the huge-antlered stag was now bowing before. 

Her eyes flitted towards the sky, unsure what she expected to see- maybe a hole? Maybe an airplane? Even a hot air balloon- but the sky was blue and clear normal and the figure was rising. Every animal inhaled at once and Betty swallowed hard once she recognised the shape. 

It was a man. 

But...that didn't seem- something wasn't quite- something wasn't right. 

She was ready to retreat into the forest, ready to hide though there was some pull, something urging her to stay, to maybe get closer, when he turned and met her eyes. 

No, she thought to herself. Not a man. Not a man at all. 

But a  _god._


	2. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty meets the God of Beauty

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonderfully betaed by the genius that is:  
> [gay_for_rey1999](https://archiveofourown.org/users/gay_for_rey1999/pseuds/gay_for_rey1999)
> 
> So go ahead and check out their stuff!!!
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

Jughead stared with mild annoyance at the goddess at the edge of the lake. Typical. So typical. Persephone no doubt, changing her form to try and entice him towards switching sides. Would her ludicrous nature reach no end? He let his eyes roam over the goddess, idly reaching out a hand for the stag to nuzzle into. He had missed the animals, he supposed, in all his time away. Earth's animals- aside from boars- were beautiful. He had been remiss to reject them for so long. So many had come to greet him now, as the water soused down off his body. Persephone knew him better than he thought, the form she had taken was thoroughly enticing and it certainly stirred his libido but it would do no good now. "You can go," he said quietly, but his voice echoed over the water's surface. "You can't change my mind and Cheryl is coming for you. She'll rip you apart. You've grossly underestimated her. _And_ me. We're the same star cluster." 

The goddess' eyes widened, and her lips were parted. The look was similar to the reverence he received from mere mortals. Jughead frowned. His mortal form was impressive, that was a fact, but Persephone had long ago become immune his charms. She wanted him purely for him to bestow her and to claim the most attractive god as her husband. "Uh, what?" The voice called back. 

Jughead froze.

Not a goddess, then. Her voice was soft, with no power and coated thick with fear and awe. 

_Mount Olympus._ A mortal. It couldn't be- surely not- but yes, his eyes raked over her body, at the mortal clothing and plebeian attire. He took a breath of earthly air and shook his head in wonder. It wasn't possible. Beauty like that was reserved for goddesses, she had to be one. He stalked over to her, feet splashing in the water and the stag followed dutifully. The other animals started chittering eagerly for him, but he ignored them; letting the braver birds perch on his shoulders as he marched towards her. As he neared, he realised she was petrified. A typical human response, but he could sense that she would bolt, and so with a wave of his hand he froze her feet to the ground. The animals were his shadows as he stopped right before her and scrutinised her hard. "Gods," he whispered, eyes widened, and he was tempted to stumble back but the antlers of the stag were hovering behind him. She was a mortal. From here he could see the flaws in her skin, the tiny pores and ever so slightly uneven eyebrows- goddesses didn't tie their hair back like that either. But it didn't detract; none if it detracted from her beauty. Her lips were that of Shakespeare's favourite maiden, her nose Brunelleschi's masterpiece and that neck- she looked moulded out of marble only she also looked soft and feminine. The weasel-like shape of her body, even beneath the disgusting mortal drapery was designed for wiles and allure. 

And the eyes. Heavens above, Hades below, those eyes. Oceans and zephyr's wind could have crafted those eyes, and they were currently welling with tears. 

He swallowed hard, removing her binds and she sank as if cut free from an invisible strings. Before she could run, he gentled his voice. It was difficult to remember how to converse with humans, but he tried his best. "I'm sorry to have startled you," he said quietly, and her heaving chest relaxed marginally. She was still leaning away from him, but she didn't look as if she would run. "I thought you were someone else for a moment, but I was mistaken. You have nothing to fear from me." 

She drew a shaky hand up to wipe her eyes, and he winced as the movement reddened her skin. Her skin was fit purely for satin; not harshness and abrasions. "What are you?" She croaked, and he offered her a small smile.

"I think you must already know." He gestured to the animals around him, and noticed a few rabbits who were attempting to brave the water to touch his feet. Ah yes- he remembered his form and remembered how prudish humans had become in recent centuries. "I should get some garments." He noted aloud, and it brought the most lovely blush to the woman's cheeks. Perhaps a demigod- he shook the thought from his mind, he could sense it about her. She was human. She put Helen of Troy to shame; Helen who he had bestowed ample beauty onto.

"Uh, yeah, probably," the girl smiled, a small surprised laugh in her voice. And such a voice it was. "You're...a g-god? Right? I mean- that's not, it can't be...but it is..."

"I'm Jughead, maybe you know me as Eros, Cupid, Aphrodite-"

"Aphrodite?" She whispered, his name a reverence on her lips. He nodded. Aphrodite had been one of the most popular of his names, but he's thought perhaps Cupid would win it for this woman. "The god of love? Uh, or is it beauty?"

"Both," he answered easily, "I'm Jughead now, though,"

"Jughead," she stumbled over, looking completely confused. "I'm...Betty?"

"Betty?" He tried the name, before offering her a smile. Her knees visibly trembled at the sight of him, and he cursed himself for forgetting. He needed to keep his powers in check, especially around humans. His thoughts, for the first time in a long time, drifted to Adonis. He'd kept his powers restrained around him, and he could now. "Hello, Betty."

She laughed, a melodic twinkle. The smile blossoming across her face nearly brought the god to his knees. She was his muse, that much was obvious, she was crafted like a gift. "Hello, Jughead. Can I ask what you're doing...here?" She gestured to the forest, and the animals, and the lake he'd created.

He snorted. "I uh- fell through the portal, actually." He beamed when she laughed. He could live for that sound, he thought. "I was sent back to earth- I've been slacking my duties recently. I'm supposed to rediscover the beauty of human life." It wasn't as taunting as it had been in his head before he'd arrived though. There was definitely beauty here, in the forest, in the animals, right before him. "I thought you were a goddess- Persephone, when I first landed. Hence the...rather rude greeting." 

Her face burnt furiously and her eyes shot to the ground. "No, I-n-"

He lifted a hand to touch her face, a repeating mantra in his head to be gentle. He could destroy cities with one hand, after all. She gazed up at him. "I know beauty, Betty. I'm the _god_ of it. Trust me, you put every goddess on Olympus to shame." 

In his sincerity, he'd forgotten to reign in his powers, and he caught her just before she fainted.

 

When Betty awoke, she was thoroughly convinced that she'd dreamt everything after slipping and hitting her head. But when she opened her eyes, she wasn't slumped to the side of her trail with a bump on her head, she was lying on a meadowed bed of peonies and poppies. She'd never seen those flowers in the forest before, but they were vibrantly red and sinfully soft, and she sat up slowly, swallowing hard when she was Jughead a few feet away, sitting beside a fire. He'd balanced a large, flat shell over it and was currently holding a recently dead haddock curiously in his hands. Betty took him in quietly; he was dressed now, much to her simultaneous pleasure and displeasure and was still as beautiful as he'd been when Betty had first seen him. 

Maybe she was going mad. The god of beauty and love, Aphrodite- a  _man,_ but a god and she was beginning to rethink the Church Christmas services that she and her mother attended. She couldn't take her eyes off him. He was gorgeous, he was irresistible, she half wanted to sketch him, half wanted to push him up against that tree and lavish him. His eyes met hers and he offered her a heart-stopping smile. "Do you know how to prepare fish? I think I was shown a long time ago..." he held the floppy, wet haddock towards her and she could feel laughter bubbling up again. A clumsy god who didn't know how to cook fish, she was enamoured. 

"Yeah, I know," she grinned, shuffling towards the fire and taking the fish from him. He watched her with eager eyes as she gutted it with her pen knife and splayed it over the hot shell. She figured she wouldn't need to worry too much about bacteria- he was a god, after all, and she watched as he smacked his lips together in anticipation. "How'd you get this, anyway? And the clothes?"

"The stag," he grinned "there were garments just hanging on some string." He puffed his chest proudly at the oversized white jumper and white shorts he was wearing, and Betty hid her smile behind her hand. "And the foxes got me the fish. Say what you will about mortals, but they know how to eat. Have you ever had pie? It's  _delicious._ It's meats in this type of cake..." his mouth salivated, and Betty laughed, poking at the fish with a stick as smoke started frizzling upward. He paused then, editing: " _humans_ know how to eat. Is that right? Is that less...offensive?"

She snorts, and immediately feels inelegant. That's when the absurdity of everything hits her. There's a god in front of her. A god, who's been leaving a trail of myrtle-flowers and swan feathers in his wake. He's sitting there eating the food she's giving him so....trustingly. Is it trust? Or is it just a sublime confidence in his power? How powerful is he? He survived a fall from Olympus without a scratch and he could stop her from moving if he wanted to. So why doesn't she feel afraid? She feels completely disarmed and that should frighten her but it doesn't. She wonders if she loves him because he's the god of love. Immediately, she regrets thinking it. She doesn't love him.  _Yikes._ Where had that come from? She'd only just met him. She watches as he licks the residue of the fish off his fingers and groans at the taste. Everything he does is an act of sensuality. 

When she gets to tracing his eyes again, she finds with a start that they're staring right at her. "Do you know what photography is?" 

He doesn't say the word right, and Betty outright adores him. She nods, picking at a flower. "Yeah, I know what _ph_ otography is. Do you know what a camera is?" He shakes his head, but looks as if he's memorising the word. She reckons he could probably create a camera out of thin air if he wanted to. "It's hard to explain." She realises as she looks for the right word, but she can't think of a definition that doesn't include the word "shot" or "picture". "Do you know what paintings are?" 

The look he gives her is identical to the one that Polly gives her when Betty's said something particularly dense. 

"Just checking!" She laughs, tossing a leaf at him. He grins brazenly at her, sinking into her descent of playfulness. 

"Trust me, I know what paintings are." He flicks his hair back artfully. "I've inspired most of the ones that you m-humans finds remarkable. The ones you put up in all your museums and protect. The ones you spend all that..." he struggles for the word, before exclaiming; "money, on!" happily. He begins counting on his fingers, listing a number of foreign paintings, many that she's never heard of but a few that ring very distant bells. It doesn't surprise her, really. 

But it does spark her curiosity. "Wait, when you say 'inspire', does that mean you came down to earth and introduced yourselves to all those famous artists?" 

He winks, and she nearly leaps across the flames to kiss him. "Who do you think all of Shakespeare's sonnets are addressed to?"

That was...completely absurd and amazing. The sonnets that she's studied, the paintings that she's seen documentaries on when her mom can't find anything else to watch; culture and beauty all stem from this entity before her and she can hardly believe it. "How old are you?" Because he looks the same age as her, but with the same eternal and ageless quality that she can't quite place, it's the thing that gives him away. It easy to talk to him as if he's just a guy in her year at school, but he's not. He's so much more.

He shrugged, looking completely carefree. "We don't pay any mind to things like that. Some of us were born at the beginning of time, others came later. We like to pull rank on each other, on occasion, but Zeus is the oldest." 

"Were you born at the beginning of time?" 

"No," he says easily, even though Betty's brain is spiralling a little bit. "Just before, uh..." he thinks, and she can tell that he's looking for a way to humanise the concept of his birth. She wonders if he was even really born. "Just before those dinosaurs came into existence." 

"Before the dinosaurs." She echoes; stunned. He nods, standing up. With a wave of his hand the fire is extinguished and the wind whistles in response, before simmering away into the trees. He doesn't offer her his hand, which she thinks is a little odd, but then again, he doesn't really know human etiquette. She clambers to her feet to join him, and wipes the mud off her trousers. She's just wondering what on earth she looks like when she remembers the way he'd looked at her, the reason that she'd fainted; he'd said she was more beautiful than the goddesses on Olympus. It can't be true. Not really. He was only being nice. But then again...he doesn't seem like someone who would compliment her for no reason. But it can't be true. It's isn't  _possible._ She flicks a large clump of dirt off her knee, and notices that though he's wearing white, there's no dirt at all on Jughead. "How does that work?" She murmured, more to herself, but he heard her. 

"It's earth. So earth, water, anything  _earthly_ won't stay on me. I could jump into the ocean and the water would be desperately trying to escape my form." 

"Like hydrophobic water molecules." She thinks aloud, thinking back to her chemistry lessons.

"Like what?" 

She laughs, and something inexplicably warms within her at the fact that there's so much she doesn't know, but there's also so much that he doesn't know. "It's nothing, it's...just chemistry." He nods, though residual curiosity is written all over his gorgeous face. She realises then that they're still standing, and she clasps her hands together. "So where are we going?" She realises after she's spoken just how presumptuous it sounds. The  _we_ lobbed in there. What if there is no 'we'? She watches as he rubs at the sleeve of his jumper, as if contemplating the material, and he beams at her. 

"I thought you'd teach me about photography? Do you have a home?" 

"I-uh-yeah." She nods furiously, flabbergasted. "Sure, yeah, it's just back this way..." she starts walking, recognising bits and pieces of the forest and hoping that soon enough they'll find their way back to the trail. He follows neatly in her footsteps and she wonders if he could teleport them there. She wonders if gods can do that. She wonders just what on earth gods can do. "Photography, right, I guess I could show you a few things online, and then maybe show you where to get a camera- there are some amazing Vogue magazines that my sister left in our loft." Her mind drifts to the stunning silhouetted photos of high-fashion women with striking jawlines and Tyra's 'smizing' eyes, and wonders what Jughead will think of her after he's seem  _them._

Jughead nodded, and Betty watched his feet- twigs and stray stones seemed to shift on the earth to make room for his bare feet. "There were a lot of words there I did not completely understand. But you have a sister? Does she look like you?" 

"Polly," Betty supplied, smiling when she recognised a small strip of trail and moving onto it with more confidence. She wondered briefly how they'd gotten so deep into the forest, and suppressed the thought- the hope- that he'd carried her. "She's much prettier than me, but yeah, everyone says we Cooper girls look alike." 

He nodded, pausing to let a fox stroke itself against his bare leg like a cat. "I'm not sure that's entirely possible. If so, I'll have to take you and your sister to Olympus; have you made Gods." 

"Is that even possible?" 

"Rarely." He replied obscurely, as they broke onto the part of the earth that was dappled with sunlight. She wondered briefly what the hell she was going to say to her mother and how long she'd been out for; her mobile sitting on her bedroom table back at home. It was still sunny though so hopefully it was only early afternoon and her mother hadn't sent out any search parties like last time. That had been embarrassing. Maybe she could say he was a friend from school? She snuck a look at him over her shoulder and he was taking in the scenery like a man who had never seen a forest before; she wasn't sure how he was going to handle her mother's abrasive line of questioning. But then again, he was incredibly beautiful, and her mother could appreciate beauty. Maybe she'd even be blinded by that smile and let Betty grab her purse and laptop and get out of the house. Or she could say it was a boyfriend, her mom would be more than eager to accept that as an answer; she'd been on Betty's case to get a boyfriend for years now. 

It was decided then. "I'm going to tell my mom you're my boyfriend, if that's okay? It's just easier." 

Jughead nodded; "a type of consort? A lover? Someone you'll wed?" 

"Uh...kinda. Let's just stick with the word boyfriend for now." But she had to try quite hard not to smile too widely. He didn't seem at all offended by the idea, as if being seen with Betty wouldn't be some heinous crime, because that's definitely how she felt. Here she was walking through the forest with a god; about to introduce him as her fake boyfriend, life didn't really get that ludicrous. Besides, in the wake of his pure stunning glory, she felt rather woefully inadequate. "My mom, she can be...difficult." She hedged another wary look at him. The smile he sent her made her stop for breath. 

"If she looks anything like you, Betty, I'm sure I'll be too smitten to care." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your comments are so sweet, I love them and you mwah x


	3. Town

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty takes Jughead into Town

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope you enjoy!

The chocolate; slightly melted and just the right side of sweet, caved in as his teeth bit into it. The gooey caramel and biscuit inside stuck to his lips as he smacked them together, drawing in all the flavour. It crunched against his molars and smeared around his lips; it had melted into his fingertips, which he was using to just shove more of it inside his mouth. 

Alice and Betty watched in awe. 

He was eating the chocolate bar as if it was the most delicious food in the world, and he looked like pure sensuality personified whilst he ate it. Which, Betty supposed, he was. She risked a peek up at her mom, who was just staring over the rim of her coffee cup in barely concealed amazement. Betty's eyes flitted back to the god, who was working his jaw to try and get the chocolate stuck off the roof of his mouth, as well as gush over how delicious he found it. This had been her life for the past ten minutes. She wondered idly if they had any other mars bars in the drawer. She was fighting the strange desire to give him all of them. "So, mom," she said instead, as brightly as she could manage, suppressing the urge to laugh. "This is my boyfriend; Jughead." 

"Yes." Alice murmured, taking a sip of her coffee and dragging her eyes away to fix that Cooper blue on her daughter. "Well...I wasn't aware you had a boyfriend, Betty dear. Is there a reason you kept him from me?" 

The blonde shrugged; she hadn't taken off her coat, which she hoped meant that her mother would take the hint. She just wanted to run upstairs and get her laptop and purse, and then take Jughead out into town. Maybe her mom would let her take the car..."Well, I wasn't sure how serious it was, and I didn't want to raise your hopes." She wondered briefly whether the lie was as obvious to her mother as it was to her. "But now we've made it official, right Juggie?" 

Both women turned to him, and he was licking at his chocolate-stained fingers curiously, before nodding. "Yes! Yes, we are now...official. I love Betty." 

He said it so easily that it took both women aback. Betty took a quick breath; he clearly didn't know the taboo surrounding those three words. Betty didn't really know anyone in college who tossed those words around lightly; Veronica and Archie maybe, but that only because they'd been dating since high school. She plastered a smile onto her face, and turned to face her mother bravely. "Yup. Um...love. We love each other. Isn't that good?" 

Alice blinked, setting down her coffee purposely and nodding slowly. "Yes, I suppose it is. I'm so glad to finally meet the man you  _love_ then, Betty. It's good to meet you,  _Jughead._ Is that your real name?" 

Betty watched; cringing, as Jughead clearly struggled for purchase. "I've had lots of names, but yeah, Jughead's what people call me now." 

"What would be on your birth certificate?" She interrogated, and Betty shot her a look. 

"Um-"

"Mom." Betty said, voice hard, and Alice shrugged.

"What, Betty? I'm simply getting to know your boyfriend. So, Jughead, what do you major in?" 

"Photography." He said more easily, and Betty surpassed the urge to laugh at the self-satisfied look he shot her on pronouncing it correctly. "And the study of history is still something hu-we do. So I also do that." 

Betty was willing him to shut his mouth a little. Alice didn't look pleased. "Photography, huh? It's not very lucrative, is it? As a profession I mean-"

"Mom!"

"I wouldn't know about any of that," Jughead continued on effortlessly, and Betty could feel the air shift slightly as he leaned back on the kitchen stool. It revealed the long expanse of his neck into the white jumper; and though Alice had frowned upon his choice of clothing, she now thought that the colour really rather suited him. Her daughter's boyfriend, despite some other faults, certainly was attractive enough. "I just have a real interest in learning about  _cam-er-a's_ and how they work. Money's never really interested me." 

His jawline looked sharp enough to cut glass. Alice wondered what his chest might look like- she dragged her thoughts back to this side of appropriateness and was flustered with herself for thinking anything of the sort. "I see. Well, where will you be staying whilst you're here?" 

Betty cut in brightly; "I thought he could stay with us, mom! Polly's not going to be coming back this summer, and I thought we could give him her room. Give you and dad a chance to get to know him better." She could see by the look on her mother's face that it would be no imposition, in fact, Alice looked positively gleeful at the thought of having the opportunity to bombard Jughead with questions whenever she liked. 

"But of course, dear," she smiled, leaning over to pick up the mars bar wrapper and throw it into the bin. "Our home is your home, Jughead. I'll get your room ready, though some prior warning would have been nice." 

"It was all very last minute," Betty managed through gritted teeth, "or I would have told you earlier." 

"Of course." 

Betty turned to Jughead, to shoot him a long suffering look, but he was too busy watching as her mother squeezed hand-sanitiser into her palm. He looked like he was about to start asking questions. "Mom, can I take Jughead out to town in the car? Just show him around and get him some...clothes? He didn't bring any." 

"Or shoes, I noticed." Her mother said mildly without turning around. 

Betty rubbed her temples. "Yes. It was all a bit hectic-"

"The keys are in the drawer, Elizabeth."

"Elizabeth?" Jughead frowned, turning to look at Betty. "You're nam-"

She darted forward and slammed her hand over his mouth. He made a muffled sound of confusion, and Alice turned to see her shoving him towards the door. "Go wait outside! I'll go and get my laptop and purse, alright?" He nodded, still looking bewildered and stepped outside. She raced upstairs; grabbing her laptop and purse and having time to think that just this morning she'd woken up in this bedroom and her life had been  _normal_ before sprinting back down and out the door. She bustled him into the car, and only relaxed as she pulled out onto the wide, empty road. 

"What is this?" Jughead asked; delightedly, as he craned his head to look into the back seat and poked at the radio. She batted his hands away. She could feel sweat surfacing along her brow, and wiped it away. "This  _car._ It's- we're going so fast!" 

She laughed; it bubbled up and out of her throat and she couldn't stop herself. Jesus, it was all so ridiculous. "It's a vehicle, with a motor- sort of like a horse and cart, I guess?" She didn't really know which era to be basing her comparative references to, but he seemed to understand, sliding his hands across the smooth leather of her mother's Chrysler. "Sorry about my mom back there. She's a journalist and she deems it her actual purpose in life to interrogate people." She watched him out of the corner of her eye as she slipped onto the highway and joined the flow of traffic. He was smudging his fingers against the windows admiringly, and he half shrugged. He made rather a picture, in his oversized, mismatched clothes and chocolate-stained chin. A god in her mother's car. No one would ever believe her. 

Not that she'd tell anyone. Not  _ever._ He'd never said it had to be a secret but the thought of people knowing shook her to the core. First, there was the fear over what would happen- though he could overpower them no doubt- but also there was a sense of secrecy slightly more...intimate. He was almost  _hers._ In a weird way. In that she was the first human he'd seen on this trip, that she was the one he was latching onto. "I liked her." He said, jolting her out of her more possessive strain of thought. "She reminded me of one of my companions back on Olympus. Fiery. I liked her. Did she like me, also?" 

Betty shook her head fondly, biting her bottom lip. "Yeah, I think so. I've never introduced her to a boyfriend before though, so it can be tough to say." 

"You've never had a boyfriend?" He repeated, incredulity thick in his voice. "How? Have human males become blind in recent centuries?" 

She blushed fiercely, reaching over without taking her eyes off the road to swat his arm. But he caught her hand and twined their fingers instead. 

She was suddenly rather glad her mom had an automatic. 

 

 

"Special occasion, Cheryl?" Toni asked, wringing water out of her lavender locks into the lake of the dead. The white souls that swirled within it sailed peacefully in concentric circles, taking the rippling tide with them. The dark skinned goddess scoffed when no reply came, though she had been able to sense Cheryl's soul line as soon as it came through the portal. Shaking out her hair again, she turned, and frowned to see the angry red glow of Cheryl's hair onto the silver cave walls. "What's wrong?" 

Her scarlet lips were in a hard, straight line and Toni felt wary at the sight of them. Cheryl's arms were crossed over the front over her gold armoured bodice, and she didn't looks if this trip down into the Underworld was one that was part of their long drawn courtship. She braced herself, rubbing at the runes over her arms; the intricately detailed tattoos that kept the peace down here, for luck. But she was still surprised, when Cheryl blurted; "Where's Persephone?" 

Toni frowned hard, wondering why Cheryl would even want to know. "I think she's visiting with one of Zeus' wives. Why?" 

Cheryl shrugged, dragging one of her talons down the wall lightly. "No reason. I was simply wondering if you had any idea about the war she's been planning." 

The goddess of death's jaw dropped, and she let out a stuttered gasp. "I don't think so, Cheryl. Persephone may be difficult, but she's not about to start a war-"

"Why do you think I would be here if it wasn't the case?" Cheryl snapped, and Toni bit back her reply.  _because you care about me?_ came unbidden, and she pushed it away; game face on. Cheryl was right. She was the goddess of war, after all. If that's what Persephone had been planning then Cheryl must have known. She nodded, and Cheryl continued once she was satisfied. "She, Hermes and Demeter have been stirring up some of the gods. They have the most absurd agenda." 

"Has it been announced?" Toni questioned; watching as Cheryl strode towards the lake. She scooped down and ran her fingers through it. A soul drew near her hands, and she batted them away. 

A cool wind ruffled their hairs mournfully. "No." She said easily; half shrugging. "But I know that Persephone wants more beauty: she went to Jughead for a bestowing." 

"She did what?" Toni whispered; eyes wide. That was...ridiculous. "And Jughead declined her, I'm assuming?"  _Olympus._ A bestowing? Persephone was already one of the most beautiful gods. How self-absorbed was she becoming? 

"Obviously." Cheryl breezed, flicking a flame over her shoulder. "She wants Jughead for a husband, and Zeus ousted. She doesn't think he alone should decide who gets the black ambrosia and who gets the gold ambrosia. She thinks it should be a  _democracy."_ Cheryl spat out the word, distaste in her tone. "Knowing her, she'd use the black to kill off most of the gods who disagreed with her. She's gone mad down here, Toni. You need to tell her to find a new home; she needs to be living back on Olympus. Most gods can't handle this place." 

"You can," Toni said, going for flirtatious. She watched as Cheryl stiffened and cursed herself; going back to the matter at hand. Cheryl wasn't here for courtship. She was here to crush what seemed like a growing rebellion. "Okay. I'm on your side, obviously. Jughead is also?" 

"Of course." 

"I'll tell Persephone to leave, but that'll mean she knows you're onto her game. She'll head to Havana with Hermes, right? Are you going to follow her? Are you going to Zeus? How are you going to handle this?" Toni asked, she was getting worried now. She'd never heard of anything like this, and the look on Cheryl's face was bringing a heavy gravity to the situation. She knew Cheryl had to handle things like this a lot, a lot of the gods on Olympus did; it was where most of the dramatic things happened. It was why Toni preferred her haven: the Underworld. The glitter of the diamonds on the cave walls, the cool gentle breeze as it blew over the lakes and oceans of her Kingdom; the sighs of contentedness of blissed-out souls. Nothing bad ever happened here. She was happy, had been happier lately ever since Cheryl and her had decided to embark on their relationship. 

Almost as happy as she'd been when those pesky Athenians had stopped banging their heads against the earth in honour of her. Toni had hated that. 

"I'll handle it." Cheryl said, and Toni noticed a small softening of her features. "You didn't know? About Persephone?" 

Oh.  _Oh._ "No, Cheryl," the dark skinned goddess said with a small smile; honest and kind. "I had no idea. I don't pay her much attention, really. She uses these oceans as her mirrors. I don't see much of anything when I look at her. Unlike..."  _when I look at you_ went unsaid. She moved closer to Cheryl, her own long black robes dragging against the dark pearled floor. "I've missed you." 

Cheryl sighed, smiling for the first time since she'd been down there. It lit up her face. "I've missed you too. No gifts for you this time, I'm afraid." 

Toni laughed, shaking her head so a few droplets sprayed her companion. "You are the gift, Cheryl." 

The blush that blossomed against her cheeks matched the fire of her hair. 

 

Humans were  _incredible._

Jughead could hardly believe the hustle and bustle of the town centre. People in different clothes; so many of them and yet all so courteous, the smell, the  _food,_ he'd followed Betty around all afternoon in a state of awe. There was beauty everywhere, absolutely everywhere, there were tall buildings, architectural feats of brilliance, with long hanging flowers crawling down walls. When Betty had bought him clothing, he'd dragged his hands against all the different materials, wondering when human beings had become so damn creative. The plush linen and silk fluttered against his skin, and he thought back to the previous times he'd been on earth. It had never ben anything like this. Gone was the smell of illness and dirt, come was the smell of stones and cobbles. The air was not as fresh as he remembered, but the tang of the  _cars_ as Betty had explained, was not as awful. With a small wave of his hand, he eased the poll-you-shone and made the air a little nicer to breathe. 

And the mortal drapery: it wasn't nearly as restrictive as it looked. Betty had bundled him into a shop, which Jughead understood to be a market place just like before; funny how things stayed the same at heart, and let her dress him. She was beautiful, she could understand how to dress the god of beauty. Not that he'd ever paid much attention to his appearance, to be truthful. He knew he was designed for his purpose, and that was fact. There was little arrogance concerning it. It was simply life. But he did enjoy the way that Betty's eyes lingered on parts of his body as she forced him into different garments. Liked the way her neck would flush, or her words would stutter or the way she licked her lips- he liked knowing that he wasn't controlling her. His powers regarding his own divinities had been kept tightly in check as soon as they'd neared other people. He didn't want humans staring at him; desiring him and needing to be close to him. He merely wanted Betty to keep laughing. 

She had the most wonderful laugh. 

After she'd bought him clothes- and Jughead had wondered about that. He'd not thought anything of it, but the market owner had looked at them with some surprise. It smelt of disapproval. Did that mean that Jughead should have procured the money? So, he'd created some and given it to Betty. She'd shaken her head profusely and rejected it, and he'd thrown it into one of their bins; confused. But then, he'd never understood money- she took him to a small  _cafe._ Seated on some soft chairs, he'd devoured every dish and drink she'd ordered for him, and stared in absolute amazement at the things she was showing him on her laptop. 

Humans were incredible. Genius. 

"Like an encyclopaedia?" Jughead struggled to comprehend, staring at the way Betty navigated the laptop. She nodded, and he leaned into her side, happy with the contact. "And this will teach me what photography is?" 

She laughed, nodding. "Well, I hope so. Look here, these are photos. You take a picture with a camera, and it makes a photo. We just type 'photo' into here..." her fingers moved impossibly quickly over the lettering and he watched as the laptop changed. Most of the words coming out of her mouth in the fluent, melodic stream were going straight over his head, but he tried with all his intelligence to memorise the most important ones. Suddenly he was lambasted with views. There was a heart-shaped red tree, a pair of...spectacles against the sun, a girl against bark, a man creating clouds and more trees. Some ocean, some of the drinks that Betty had let him try- what looked like two legs and floating balls of plastic in the sky. 

"What are those?" He asked, pointing. His finger connected hard with the laptop, and she tugged his hand away, smoothing over the smudge he'd created. He had to be gentle around these mortal objects, he thought to himself, so many things were breakable. 

"It's a hot air balloon," she beamed, joy radiating from her face. "They're amazing. I've only been on one once but you can see for miles. I can take you, if you like." 

"I would like that." He said quickly, because he could smell the regret and embarrassment flowing through her blood. He nipped it in the bud before it could blossom, and she smiled easily. "This is such variety." He murmured, focusing as she showed him more and more images. "So I need a camera, and what do I take a...picture of?" 

She shrugged, hair bobbing. "Anything you think is beautiful." 

Ah. "You, then?" 

That lovely, familiar blush was crawling up her cheeks. "Um, well- look, I wanted to show you  _Vogue._ I think you'd really like this sort of thing." She began hitting the keys again, and he frowned. How come she could bang this object so hard and yet him prodding at the upper part was such an issue? "Ah ha! Here; look at that!" 

 **Vogue photography** was written at the top, and Jughead ducked his head closer to peer at them. This was a different type of photo that much was obvious; many of them without colour. All of women, he noted; strikingly beautiful with unusual jaw lines, but still swathed in beauty. He nodded, absorbing the angles and the way the lighting hit their cheekbones. He was suddenly itching to try it. It reminded him vaguely of the 'high art' that Betty had been talking about whilst they'd been waiting in line to get a drink. It was similar to waiting to get water from the well from an older trip to earth, and the familiarity had made him laugh. 

"I like this." He said, admiring the picture of a woman who was in different attire to the rest of them. She had white spectacles with dark pieces in-between and a red and white satchel bag with a dark blue background. He pointed at it, making sure not to touch the laptop this time, and Betty nodded. 

"Yeah, 1950's shoots are my favourite too." She murmured, and was hitting the keys again. This time she showed him a collection of photos that seemed to encapsulate the '1950's era' as Betty coined them. He immediately responded to the clothing style, and was nodding voraciously. 

"I want to try this." He said, getting to his feet. "Can we get a camera? Should I make one?" 

"I  _knew_ you'd be able to make one," she murmured under her breath, though he caught it anyway. He sat back down when it became apparent she wasn't going to join him right away. She was fishing for more money in her pockets, and he felt stupid for forgetting. Humans were always having to exchange money for things. "I think we should buy one for now, and then once you get used to it; we can see you actually create one out of thin air." He could hear the wonder and amazement in her voice, and grinned. She raised her hand, and Jughead turned to see the woman in black who had brought their drinks over in the first place, nod at them. She would come to them in a moment, apparently. Jughead turned his attention back to the laptop. "Now listen," Betty began in a quiet voice. "I know you think I'm beautiful which is...well, anyway, look at this." She turned the laptop, and Jughead took in the woman on the screen. 

"Marilyn Monroe." He read slowly. It was odd, to see the same person in so many different photos, clearly taken at so many different moments in their life. In some old, in some young, and the attire and hair ever changing. One photo caught him, with the woman in a black turtleneck, smiling demurely at the- his mind struggled for the word for a moment before coming up victoriously- camera. Her blonde hair curled into light ringlets, and he let out a breath. "Beautiful," he whispered, nodding. "She's stunning." Her lips were peach and her skin looked flawless in these photos. He flickered his eyes to Betty, and back to the screen, before shaking his head. "I'm afraid you're still the victor though. Whoever this Marilyn Monroe is, you put her to shame." 

Betty burned furiously, and they both looked up to hear the choked off gasp of the woman in black. She was holding a slip of paper, which she handed to Betty, but her eyes stayed focused on Jughead. She had brown hair, scraped back off her face and Jughead frowned. He really did prefer it when human females kept their hair down, but this was apparently the 'trend'. He smiled at her, a little confused, eyes darting to Betty for instruction, but she was counting her money. The woman in black inhaled sharply at his smile, and Jughead hurried to temper down his power, guiltily hunching in his shoulders. 

The woman seemed to catch herself, and she smiled. "You're uh- you're a very sweet boyfriend." She turned to Betty, the jealousy palpable in her tone. "You've very lucky." 

Betty handed her the money, and smiled; Jughead noted with some surprise that the edges of her normally sweetly curved smile were sharp. Sharp like Cheryl; sharp with smugness. The thought startled him. Was she smug to be with him? It made him smile. He hoped so. He was certainly smug to be with her. "I don't think so," he said loudly, pushing his hair off his forehead. "I am the truly lucky one. Betty is a goddess." 

He laughed as Betty thwacked him, and didn't notice the look of longing the barista sent him. 

They headed out of the shop together; towards the camera market, and he adjusted the clothing. He liked it, he decided, not particularly because the black leather was cool against his skin, or the fact that the jeans had useless holes in them; but because Betty had picked them out. He hoped he could keep them. He peered down at his shoes, wiggling his toes and humming thoughtfully. Betty would make an excellent photo subject; he wanted to see her in numerous outfits. He could create them out of the air; get her to try them on and take photos. He thought he could do that forever. He told her as much, and she'd laughed loudly; embarrassed but pleased and held his hand. 

He rather liked that, too. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you think I'm itching to use the photos from the gorgeous [Lili Reinhart Photo Shoot](https://www.harpersbazaar.com/culture/film-tv/a21948648/lili-reinhart-riverdale-interview/) then you're right 
> 
> Lovely comments you gorgeous beasts, ugh, i just wanna marry you all. 
> 
> mwah mwah


	4. Adonis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They buy a camera, and get a picture of the past.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love the support i'm getting for this, genuinely surprised and so happy! I love you all!

Leather had come a long way from the furred cowhide that Jughead remembered. 

The  _jacket,_ not coat or cape, human language was very fussy, settled well on his shoulders, and he liked the supple feel of it against his skin. He pulled his arm back, and then forward again, watching the black fabric crease and uncrease with a pleasing rustle. There was no presentation to accentuate his beauty better than bareness, but the framing of this leather jacket against his torso was appealing, in a very mortal type of way. 

The mirror he was looking into was between two carriers of spectacles with dark lenses. He moved his hands through his hair, watching the way it flopped down in effortless curls of splendour. He caught the eyes of Betty's reflection, and she was looking at him amusedly. She smelt fond, and slightly exasperated, so he pulled away from his appearance to beam at her. It was too strong, as the blood rushed to her cheeks, so he tempered it down a little. "Apologies," he murmured, shuffling towards her. He made sure to keep his voice quiet, as seemed the trend of the hubbub in this small shop. "Is that still considered vain? I thought Narcissus died a long time ago." 

Betty's hair shone a spectacular gold as the light bounced off it, and her eyes were two blue pearls of wisdom. "Narcissus?" She repeated, voice incredulous but excited all the same. Jughead liked that look on her. But he liked most looks on her. "That's the one who fell in love with his own reflection, right?" 

"Yes, he was unpleasant. We were glad to see him go." Jughead said honestly, and turned to stand beside her, facing the back of the other mortal. There was a long line of them waiting to talk to a man at the front. It seemed an odd procedure, but civilised enough. 

"So...gods can die?" She whispered, and he nodded. 

"All the time. Zeus can kill anyone of his blood, and he kills a lot of his children. But we have black ambrosia that Zeus keeps. We merely ask for permission, he gives us some, and it can kill a god." 

Betty looked stunned, and Jughead went back over his words wondering if he'd made light of something that should have been heavier. "Why does Zeus kill his children?" She asked in a shaky voice.

Oh. Yes, that wasn't very human. Jughead rubbed the back of his neck. "He takes a different mortal wife every year," he said carefully, watching Betty's face. "Turns her into a goddess so he can have sex with her, and then she falls pregnant. It wouldn't do to have so many gods on Olympus, so Zeus..." he paused tactfully "...he makes them stars." 

She immediately flicked her eyes upwards, but there were only artificial lights and a roof blocking the sun. "Oh,"

He took her hand, mindful of her delicate human bones, and twined their fingers together. "It's not really a death, I suppose. It's just a different life. Death is...humans have always had an odd understanding of death, we've never really understood. Just, don't be...don't be sad when you look at the stars. Asteria's the goddess of the night sky, and she...well, I think she's probably second only in inner-beauty to you." 

Betty blushed again, shaking her head as if he were ridiculous. "Stop," she muttered, and he grinned at her; unrepentant. 

"Never." 

Slowly they made their way to the front of the line, and the male behind the table looked at Betty; pupils dilating. Jughead bit back the rush of anger, and tried to temper it. Of course he should look at Betty, she was  _beautiful,_ but she-he- the emotions warred in his head and before he could really decide to do anything he was unleashing his power, and letting it course through his immortal blood. It caught the male's attention, and his eyes turned to Jughead; wide and aroused. "H-how can I help you?" He croaked; stare fixed on the god. 

Jughead resisted the urge to smile, and instead turned to Betty who was leaning over the glass to examine different models. "We want a camera please; it's for a first time photographer but we want the good kind. I want to be able to hook it up to the laptop, edit the photos, change focus and magnification..."  she continued on, and Jughead scoffed quietly in awe. How many words did she know? How could she string them together so quickly? He barely understood the words, but admired that the flurried movements of her lips had easy eloquence and appeal. The man, who had his name scrawled on some plastic tied to his shirt, read  _Darien._ Darrien was listening attentively, nodding. There was a long, hard to decipher conversation where they examined a few different objects that Jughead understood to be cameras. 

They were rectangular, fancy little things. Some larger than others, but none bigger than a block of artic ice. Betty handed him each one to hold, and though he didn't understand much about them, he liked the feel of them in his hands. 

He took a particular liking to a large, black one with silver dangles and a large, circular, nearly purple piece of thin glass. It had a thick black strap that Betty looped over his head so it hung around his neck. It was  _incredible._ He laughed in amazement, lifting the camera and testing its weight between his fingers. 

"I think we'll take that one please." Betty chuckled, and Darien nodded; he was still ebbing around the edges with frays of sexual attraction, but Jughead barely payed attention to him. Betty was sliding over a piece of plastic that he shallowly understood to be associated with money, and he was well-versed enough to realise that the numbers on the screen seemed significantly more than the drinks had been. He frowned, reaching forward and conjuring a handful of currency into his hands. 

"Let me." He insisted, ignoring the spluttered look Darien gave them at the spill of papers onto the table. "Here, that should be enough." 

"I- that's-" Darien stared at the heap, and Jughead turned to Betty who was scarlet cheeked; her pretty lips parted. 

She looked up at him; incredulous amazement rolling off her in waves, before she shook her head and turned to Darien. She tucked her card into her pocket. "Yup. Yeah. He's paying. That should..." she swallowed and looked at the money. "That should do it. Right? His parents are loaded." 

Jughead wondered what that meant, but it seemed to kick Darien out of his surprised state of glazed over awe, and took the money in his arms. They walked out with the camera still looped over his neck and Jughead felt a little giddy, eager to try it out. He reached out for Betty's hand, and was pleased to find it open palmed and waiting for him. 

...

...

...

There was a boar tusk on the mantle of the entrance gate and Cheryl stared at it curiously. 

The hot waves of Havana smoothed over her through the golden bars, and she peered through them into a mass of lavender trees and white sand. She could see nothing but the leaves and the sand, and sighed. "Hermes, come to the entrance before I set this whole place ablaze." She said boredly; examine her talons. There was a moment of nothing, and then a shuffle, before the blue skinned god appeared from behind the tree. He was shorter than Cheryl remembered, and she delighted in her towering height over him through the barrier. "There you are, plebe. I was beginning to think you were too frightened at even the thought of me. Where's your master? And I meant to ask; when were you going to announce it to the other gods that you'd relinquished your status? Not a god anymore, hm? If you're taking orders from someone other than Zeus. What should I call you? A demigod? Even that seems too pandering." 

Hermes scrunched up his face and crossed his arms in a huff. "What do you want, Kratos?" 

She gritted her teeth against the old name, but smiled. "I want to see your master, obviously. Where hides Persephone? Is she in there? Perseophone. If you can hear me, come and join your lackey. Or does he speak for you?" 

No one came, and the silence carried on the wind. 

Hermes turned to leave. 

"Before you go, plebe, how many of the gods do you have on your side? And do you realise you're waging war against the goddess of war?" She laughed, rolling her eyes. "Even you must see how ridiculous it is. I've never been beaten in battle. It isn't possible." 

Hermes glared at her, rubbing at his chubby azure cheeks. eying the flaming tresses of her hair. "Kratos, Persephone just wants the ambrosia, okay? Not even the black, not really. She just wants to ensure that  _she's_ the only one who can decide when mortals become gods. And if you ask me, I think she'll hurl the entire contents of it into the ocean. Make it Neptune's problem. She hates mortals. This war isn't one against you, it's against them. She doesn't want to fight you." His voice seemed strained, and Cheryl eyed him consideringly. She knew that Persephone hated human beings; it was an unusual feeling amongst Olympus. Most of the gods felt a warm level of responsibility and love for the creatures down below, but did it make sense? Why would Persephone want to control who was allowed to become a god?

"Couldn't she just talk to Zeus? Make him regulate usage?" She frowned again, harder, and scratched her nail down the rung of the gate. It screeched loudly, and sparks flew in numerous directions. "He uses it once a year for himself, and less than that for other gods put together. Who is she worried about? The last turned mortal we had was his most recent wife, and no one ever sees them. They live in his mountain and don't bother us. What's her problem? And why does Jughead have anything to do with it?" 

Hermes winced again, and stared at his feet. "Aphrodite should have bestowed her, and married her." 

" _Jughead_ should have killed her where she stood." 

Hermes snapped up to look at her; fury in his eyes. "She's above and beyond what he could ever hope for. That disgusting mortal he was involved with-"

"Shut your mouth." Cheryl hissed; hair rising in anger, and sending a heat wave towards him. "You don't say his name. You don't  _ever_ say his name. That human was more of a god than you could ever be and he never even got to taste the ambrosia. Crawl back into your hovel, Hermes. The next time I see you, Zeus will be throwing you into the stars." 

Hermes eyed her, before turning and disappearing into the wind. 

Cheryl blew flames at him just because she could, but he was gone before they touched his back. 

...

...

...

Being with him made her feel like a child again.

Not in a way that was free of responsibility, because she certainly felt responsible for him. But in a carefree, happy way. She felt, through him, that everything was beautiful and endearing. The way he fluttered from place to place, snapping the button of the shutter so often that it was all she could hear echoing in her head. He'd fallen into the role of a photographer as well as she thought he would. He looked remarkably right with the camera held up to his eye, taking photos of anything and everything. He'd taken photos of cars and birds and the sky, and so many of Betty that she thought she might burst. She was happy she'd sprung for the few extra rolls of memory, because he found everything beautiful. 

It was easy to see why. He seemed to imbue beauty into everything. She'd look at the bare, dirty street ahead, but then he'd point at it and she'd see it again. This time the gravel path was lit with the spruced indigo of stones; and it was writhing with hardworking opal ants and little shards of shining, splintering glass. He'd kneel and smooth his fingers over the surface, before lying flat on his stomach to get another picture. And she found herself lying with him; destroying her jumper and throwing away the thought of what her mother might think. She peeked through the lens when he held it out for her, to show her what he was after, and she marvelled at the fact that he'd only just discovered this craft, and he was already set to be a master of it. 

But it was getting late, and the sun was creeping down the sky. She tugged at his wrist, when he seemed distracted by the trail of light hinting towards the river at the edge of town. "Jug," she murmured, "maybe we should head home? I'm pretty tired." 

He turned to look at her, before looking longingly at the distance; his camera in his hands. His shoulders relaxed, and he turned to look at her. "Okay. Beds get more comfortable every time I come to earth." 

They fell into an easy step together back towards the car park. "How many times have you come to earth?" She asked, biting her bottom lip. It was weird, to consider him in other time periods. She wanted to ask about her icons, about her heroes, but decided there would be time tomorrow. She had a list of people she wanted to ask if he knew, or had inspired. She blinked in surprise as he linked their hands, but curled into him. They'd been holding hands all day and she'd beamed every time. She looked around at the few people they passed and wondered what they thought. She thought with glee that they probably assumed they were dating. She liked the thought a lot. She tried not to let her mind psych her out with worrying questions over what he thought of the gesture, and instead listened to him talk. 

"Quite a few times. I stopped the last time because of...well..." he shook his head, "I don't really like to talk about it, but you're so amazing, Betty," he turned to give her a small smile, and she beamed back before she could help herself. That touched a genuine part of her heart, and she squeezed his fingers reassuringly. " A long time ago I fell in love with a human. He died, and..." he shrugged, "I never wanted to come back, so I didn't."

Jealousy, quick as a flash, comes and goes. Pulls in and recedes like a singular tide, and she held him tighter. He was an old, old man with the heart of a child, but he knows what it is to love and lose. "I'm sorry," she whispered earnestly. Her mind brought images of her sister, no longer coming home for summer. "What was he like?" 

He looked startled and wary. "You want to hear about that?" 

She nodded certainly. "It's good to talk about it."

Jughead sighed, the camera thumping against his chest, as he raked his hand through his hair. He was framed with the evening light, and a star twinkled distantly. She looked up at it and thought of the god it was once, and thought of Asteria, and thought it was beautiful anyway. Like him. "His name was Adonis." He looked over at Betty's sharp intake of breath, and he frowned. "What? Is it a well-known story?" 

She flushed, trembling, a thousand thoughts racing through her head. Adonis. Adonis, as in the Adonis had been Jughead's love. How could she compete? Was she trying to compete? Adonis.  _Adonis._ She was Betty Cooper from Riverdale with eyebrows that never quite matched and his last true love had been _Adonis._. "He's, well, I don't think many people know the story of his life, but his name is...well known..." she trailed off lamely, and Jughead hunched his shoulders as they walked between a row of cars. 

"I was...foolish. I thought I wanted to deify him, since I hadn't been able to do so during his life. I was about to, I had the ambrosia-" he cut himself off, clearly pained, and Betty smoothed her thumb over his knuckles. "But he died before I could. I travelled everywhere, telling mort-humans about him. I had artists inspired to make sculptures, painters to paint, writers to write, I wanted everyone in the world to know his name. By the time I realised it was causing me too much pain it was too late to stop it." He frowned again. "I thought the cult of him would have died down now." 

"It doesn't mean him, anymore really," Betty hurried to explain. "Language changes all the time. An adonis is someone whose very strong, with lots of muscles. I never even knew he was..."  _yours._

He heard it anyway, and paused by her mother's car. "I used to visit Toni to see his soul, but it's long stopped being an aid."

"People cope with grief in different ways," she murmured, wondering who Toni was. "Even gods." She nudged him, and he smiled. She tugged open the car door for him, since he couldn't quite figure out the handles, and they both sat inside. 

"You aren't a thing like him, in case you thought that." He said suddenly, just as she switched the engine on. She looked over to him; surprised, and he struggled for words. "It's been over a hundred years, Betty. I'm not...I'm not replacing him, you're not a thing like him. There's no resemblance in personality or appearance other than that you are both beautiful in both aspects. Just...there's no comparison, Betty. The Fates decide where we go, and I'm very happy that I'm here." He looked pointedly at the car and her. "With you." 

She could feel her heart pounding in her ears, and slipped the car into gear. "I'm happy I'm with you, too." She whispered, and rolled her eyes when he snapped a photo of her. The click of the shutter promised it wouldn't be the last. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys are such brilliant commenters, I will reply to each and everyone! thank you for making my day! And remember, if there's anything you'd like to see in this fic/or as a one shot, please feel free to prompt me in the comments or anonymously at my tumblr typing123 It's a bughead hive of activity over there ;)


	5. Appearances

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Betty's appearance, and Persephone's first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoy!

Betty laughed again, it was bubbling out of her uncontrollably, and she was doubled over on her bed; forehead pushed into the duvet. She sat back up, wiping at the tears in the corner of her eyes, as Jughead grinned at her from across the blankets. "Okay, okay-" she scanned her list for the next name, and he shoved at the notebook, squawking. 

"There can't possibly be more names, Betty!" He hollered with a grin, eyes crinkling. Her own cheeks were sore from the amount of laughter, and she was fairly sure that even her eaves-dropping mother was getting fed up with the noise. 

"Just one more then," she beamed, and he snorted, but leaned against her headboard and gestured for her to continue. She cleared her throat, reading the next name and grinning hard. "Agatha Christie." 

He pressed his lips together for a moment, the corners curled up and Betty reached forward to nudge his chest. He fell back further against her cushions easily, and nodded. "That's Demeter. She knew her before the accident," he said, and Betty sobered up a little; eyes wide. "She never knew her as a god, though. They met at a garden party. Human literature is very popular amongst the gods." He hummed, fingering the thread of the edges of one of the cushions, and Betty smiled warmly. "Apparently she was a delight. But Demeter thinks that about everyone. You'd like her. She's very motherly." 

The blonde stared at the way that the blue jumper hugged his frame, and bit her lip. "Would I ever get the chance to meet her? Or any of the other gods?"

He waggled his eyebrows and she laughed again; sides hurting. "I'm not enough for you, Betty? Meeting one god, gah, it's only  _one._ Not nearly enough." He teased. "I could introduce you, I suppose." He said more seriously, face thoughtful. "I'm closest to Cheryl, goddess of war. She's...I suppose the most accurate human way to describe her would be: my sister. But she's busy at the moment. Soon, though."

"The goddess of war?" Betty gulped, "I was thinking more along the lines of nicer things. Maybe the god of cuddles?"

He reached forward to loop his arms around her, and hug her tightly. She collapsed into his grip and sighed happily. "I'm the god of cuddles." He said dutifully, and she snorted. She felt good, sated in a way she hadn't in a long time. Her mother's dinner had been a lavish, immense affair, and Jughead had gorged himself on everything much to her mother's simultaneous pleasure and displeasure. She'd winced at the way he forced it all down his gullet, but continued to accept the praise he'd thrust upon her. And now, as the moon shone brightly in the sky (thanks to Asteria, Jughead had informed her), the two of them were sitting cross legged on her bed. He hadn't understood the concept of pyjamas, and so the jumper he was wearing was a touch too formal, but she didn't mind. He'd gotten the pants right, at least, and the chequered cotton made him look impossibly soft. "Do you have any other questions? I've never seen such burning curiosity. You've obviously been containing it."

Betty rolled her eyes, but bushed a little, pulling a few whispy strands of hair out of her face. "Well, I didn't want you to feel overwhelmed." She informed with a blush and he grinned knowingly. "Okay, so you know how you can just...produce things out of thin air?" She watched as he conjured a mars bar, and popped it into his mouth hole. She rolled her eyes and nodded. "Exactly, like that. Do you have...limits, on your power? Or can you just do anything?" The ability to do  _anything._ She could hardly believe it, really. 

He looked thoughtful for a moment, his long dark hair falling into his eyes in tempting strands. "We can do anything in the human realm once we understand it. Obviously there are things that are forbidden to us. For example, I could not directly change the outcome of a war, as that would be infringing upon Cheryl's territory. Cheryl, in turn, could not bestow beauty or alter appearance the way that I can. We can not alter time or fate unless expressly given permission by Cronus or the sisters of Fate, which they rarely ever give. If memory serves it was granted once to Hades to stop King Arthur from dying. The exemption to all of this is of course; Zeus."

Betty's breath was held in her throat. "You can...alter appearance?"

He frowned at her, as if he knew where she was heading. "There's something you would like to change about yourself?"

She bit her lip, but her thoughts immediately went to the freckles on the underside of her jaw, the old scar on her hip and the outward curve of her waist. Her eyebrows too, if he could do everything. Embarrassment ran through her as she took him in. He was immaculate before her, it was difficult not to focus on her own lacking features. There was not a blemish to be found anywhere on him; she'd seen him in all his bare glory, and it was glorious. He couldn't know, he couldn't understand what it felt like- she looked down when his hands caught hers, familiar and warm. His gaze was sincere. 

"Betty," he whispered her name like a caress. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you. If you want me to change something or bestow you something, all you have to do is ask." His voice was tinged with disbelief, as though he couldn't fathom a single thing about her that needed changing, but she could barely hear it over her own insecurities. Maybe having a smile more like Polly's, or hair that was as thick as her mother's, or Veronica's flawless skin or less jiggle on her thighs. They all tumbled over each other in her head to come first, and she tried to wring her hands, only to realise they were still caught in his. 

"There's a lot," she admitted, face burning. "And I'm not sure I can say them all." 

"Would you like me to..." he flicked his eyes to her forehead, and she nodded, unsure what he was talking about, before she felt the cooling presence of him in her mind. It was an abstract thing, but every thought and every insecurity was gently washed over, before he withdrew. "Base emotion reading," he murmured. He looked disappointed and withdrawn, and she suddenly felt awful. "I can do those things for you, Betty. If it will make you happy." One hand came up to cup her cheek, and she leaned into it; eyes watering. "But you're beautiful, and if I had a mortal heart it would wither and die at the fact that you don't know that. You're so wise, but so blind." He conjured a mirror, a small hand held thing, and held it to her face. "You're beautiful."

She shook her head, bottom lip wobbling and he nodded. The mirror shone once in his grip, and suddenly her reflection was different. Her eyebrows was fuller and of the same shape, her lips were thick and perfect, her skin blemish free. As she yearned to see what the rest of her looked like the mirror expanded, until they both stood up off the bed. Jughead held the mirror in his hands and she stared at herself in the reflection. Skinny and smooth, she looked, a few inches taller too, with thicker, blonder hair. She reached a hand up to touch her cheek, and sharp cheekbones met her fingertips. 

Jughead looked the picture of mourned sadness behind it. 

"I..." she was a loss for words, and he drew in a low breath.

"I could make you look like this reflection," he murmured, "if you wished. I could do it instantly or slowly, so that no one around you would be jarred by the difference." 

His voice was distant and detached in a way she hadn't heard yet. She met his stormy green eyes, and read all the loss and disappointment there. It was enough for her to stare back at the appearance and swallow thickly. "I..." her eyes watered again, and she didn't take them off her reflection. "You can't know what it's like to feel inadequate."

"You aren't inadequate." He hissed, mirror shattering and disappearing into the air. His voice was low and quiet, but god-like in its billowing power. It sounded like the distant wind of a storm, and the rush of flames through a forest. "I could change you, Betty." He began harshly, "but I wouldn't be bestowing you at all. I'd be taking  _away_ your beauty to make you look like that." He gestured to where the mirror had been. "If that's what you want, that's what you want. But don't think for a second I'd be  _improving_ you." He turned to look at the door, and the sharp angle of his jaw was clenched. She looked down at her sock-clad feet uncertainly. The tension hung tight in the room for a moment, before dissipating with the sag of his shoulders. "I should retire." He murmured, "I'm sorry if I...if I frightened you."

"You didn't." She insisted quietly, not looking up. 

"I'll see you in the morning then."

"Good night."

There was a pause, before his cool fingers were under her chin, tilting her face upwards. Their eyes met, and she watched as his emerald orbs flickered as they scanned her; looking for something. She wondered what he was trying to find. "Good night, Betty," he whispered, before padding out. She was alone then, with her room and her choices. Was it selfish? Or was it opportunistic? Did he feel like she was using him? Surely not, he was a god, he'd been inside her head? It wasn't so wrong, to want better for yourself. She wasn't a bad person for having insecurities and longing for the chance to have them fixed.

But he couldn't be serious. He'd be bestowing ample beauty onto her. 

She caught her appearance in the mirror on her desk, and it startled her. 

Full cheeked, shaky eyebrows and a freckled face stared back at her. It looked like her, though. The her that she knew, that Jughead knew, that Jughead so admired. Her waist was slim, and whilst not smooth, certainly shapely. Should she be more appreciative of her appearance? Should she long for more? Was there anything she  _should_ do at all? She could hear Jughead in her head, staring at her with those infinite eyes and whispering  _I wouldn't change a thing about you._ She crawled into bed, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Beauty was subjective, that much she knew, it was in the eye of the beholder. But who was the beholder? Her? Or Jughead? He was a  _god_ and if he thought she was beautiful, was that all that mattered? Or was it her that mattered most? Wasn't how she felt about herself the thing that defined her? If her conception of beauty was such, then she should be allowed to look like that. She should be allowed to feel beautiful. 

A part of her spoke then, quiet and rough from disuse.  _Why don't you feel beautiful the way you are now?_

She'd never asked herself that before. Immediately the insecurities sprang to the forefront of her mind, but they didn't answer her question.  _Why_ did the freckles bother her?  _Why_ did the eyebrows cause her so much distress? She didn't want to think about self-image issues, or her childhood, and decided that she didn't need to. Having thought the question in the first place seemed like a triumph in of itself, and she was contented with just that for tonight. 

 

Alice Cooper seemed adamant that Jughead should not sustain himself purely on mars bars.

He wasn't entirely sure why not, considering that gods didn't need anything to survive apart from the power that came from their worship. He hadn't mentioned that to Betty, because it was one of the greatest causes of god's fading away and he'd been worried it would upset her. A lack of worship. He'd lost a great number of friends that way; but that was how humans worked. They forgot about you as civilisations crumbled and fell, making way for new ones and destroying the old. He was fairly lucky in that respect; earth would always be full of love and beauty and sex. It was rife with it, and Jughead received millions of worships everyday. 

So he sat at the table as Alice prepared a number of different delicacies for him, each as delicious as the last. He ate heartily, one eye on the stairs, wondering if Betty would come down. 

"So Jughead, how did you and my daughter actually meet?" Alice asked, pouring him some vibrant orange liquid. He smiled shyly up at her, and bit into a sweet, flat cake. 

"I saw her and immediately wanted to photograph her." He said carefully, watching his words. "She's very beautiful." That brought back thoughts of her mind last night. The way she viewed herself, the things she worried about regarding her appearance, all distorted and wrong.

"You like that best about a woman, hm? Her appearance?" 

He shrugged, scrunching his nose a little. "Not really. Appearance is second hand to me by now, I've seen some incredibly beauty- of which Betty of course is the best- but there has to be inner beauty and love also. Otherwise it's all a shallow waste, isn't it?" Upon her silence, he flicked his eyes up to look at her and she was staring at him softly. He quickly rushed to reign in his power, before frowning. It was checked and subdued low in his heart. Then why was she-

"You're a very sweet boy, Jughead," she murmured, breaking the silence, and pressing her hand just for a moment onto the nape of his neck. It was the softest she'd ever been with him, and he watched her retreating back as she headed into the kitchen. 

"Morning," came a bright voice, and he whipped around to see Betty and startled in delight as he realised they were wearing matching colours. He was in the red jumper she'd given to him, and she was in a red dress. Her hair was down, as he liked it, and curled down in lovely ringlets. She was smiling at him, and he hoped that this meant she was no longer upset with him. He was angry enough at himself for passing any judgement at all. Who was he to tell her how to look? Humans had such an intricate thought process that he wasn't privy to truly understand. They were complex, marvellous beings and could not be bullied into making decisions. 

He stood as she approached the table, and she shot him a curious look as she sat down and reached for the watermelon. "Betty, I wanted to apologise for last night-"

Alice whirled around, steaming mug in hand. "Last night?" She questioned innocently. 

Betty shook her head, "let's not talk about it, Jug, okay?" She murmured, setting the fruit neatly onto her plate. "I'm sorry too-"

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He insisted adamantly, and she shot him a small, fond smile. He sat back down, wary but hopeful that she was telling the truth. "Can we go out photographing today?" He asked; eyes focused on Betty and any signs of discomfort. 

"Are you working on a portfolio?" Alice asked, fingers curled around her mug and elbows resting on the table. Jughead hedged a quick look at Betty who nodded, and he followed her lead.

"Uh, yes. Betty's helping me." He watched as a drop of watermelon juice ran from her lip to her chin, and resisted the urge to reach across, swipe it off and lick it off his finger. She wiped it with a napkin. "So can we? To the forest maybe?" 

She swallowed and nodded, brushing her hair behind her perfect ear. "Sounds good, Juggie. We could spend the day out there for a picnic?" She turned to look at her mom, who was watching the interaction with invested eyes. 

"You two should have fun." She said. "I'll pack you some sandwiches into the hamper whilst you get your things together." But she began buttering some brown, seeded bread whilst they were still eating, and a comfortable silence fell over them. Jughead liked watching the process of food making, it was so different and yes so similar to the way it was done in the past. He wondered whether you could still get butter in cloth wrappings rather than the hard tubs they seemed to be stored in, and watching as a selection of meats were piled onto the bread. As she started actually placing things neatly in the woven wicker basket, Betty stood to get her shoes and Jughead rushed upstairs to get his camera. 

The room he was in, Polly's, Betty's sister, if memory served, was just as nice as Betty's bedroom. Of equal measurements and decorated with the same pastels that seemed to be decorating the entire house. It was mostly empty and he wondered where the elder sister was; there was a picture of the entire family hanging in the hallway, and he'd had the pleasure of meeting Betty's father the night before. He'd seemed relatively uninterested, if Jughead was honest, simply shook his hand and eaten his dinner separately in the garage outside whilst working on the farm. But Betty spoke warmly to him and so Jughead decided to like Hal, if in honesty, he'd found him to be the blandest member of the Cooper tribe so far. His camera was sitting on the bedside table where he was charging it just as Betty had shown him. He picked it up and put it proudly over his neck before rushing back downstairs. 

The spaghetti straps of Betty's dress hung neatly over her smooth cream shoulders, and when her hair was pushed back he could see long expanses of skin. She was smiling up at him, and he managed a more flustered one back in response. Outside, the summer day was as refreshing as a dip into cool water and his feet crunched into the gravel. The long acres of green and distant trees called to him, and he switched on the camera, bringing it up to his eye to snap a quick shot. Betty's laughter pulled him from the quick butterfly flutter of the leaves, and he turned to look at her, pleased at the sound. 

"You look good," she said with a grin, "being a photographer suits you." 

A photographer. So many conjugations of words. He grinned, lifting the lens to look at her. She was vibrant red against the green, and naturally stunning. He took a few pictures, encouraged by the splaying flush of colour against her skin. She lifted her hands and blocked her face and he looked up frowning unhappily. "Betty," he began seriously, waggling his finger, "you're ruining my picture." 

She scoffed in disbelief, and hopped over the fence. He hurried to follow suit and let the wind give him a few bumps upwards. Betty laughed loudly, shaking her head. "You can  _fly!"_ She accused, and he winked cheekily, letting the wind gather under her foot and lift her a few inches off the ground. She flailed inelegantly, giggling, and he let her down gently, as they walked side by side through the fields. "So," she began, a little hesitant. "Should we talk about last night?" 

He watched the blades of grass part for his steps. "If you want to."

"Jug, you just..." there was resignation in her voice, and he winced; wondering how he could ever even attempt to understand what she was going through. "There's a lot that people don't like about themselves, okay? Things they'd change if they could, and I'm one of them. I don't want to be made bad about feeling like that."

"I shouldn't have made you feel bad," he said honestly, tone sad. "I didn't mean to. I just..." an idea came to him then, bright and beautiful. "Maybe I could spend the day taking photos of you? I just...I think you're beautiful, and maybe I could show you what I see. I don't see any of the...of the stuff you think is bad, and so maybe I can show you the stuff I think is good. Which is a lot." He glanced at her bravely, and she was smiling softly at the grass. 

"Okay," she whispered, "okay." 

He reached out for her hand, but she didn't take it, instead ducking under his arm. He settled it over her shoulders, and felt her own around his waist and he smiled. They walked like one creature with four legs into the open, lush green of the forest. 

 

The red crop fields of Aaru were more striking than Persephone remembered, and she reached out one long, elegant hand to pluck a red grain from its stem and let it disappear along the wind. She could hear footsteps in the distance; heavy considering their grace, and conjured a mirror whilst she waited. Her own sharp, elfin features stared back at her, and her long blue hair rippled like water. She thought she looked beautiful, as she always did. She thought of Jughead, and how wonderful they could be together. She remembered his touches and his nose along her neck. She remembered the way they'd looked staring into the fountains; perfectly beautiful and serenely happy.

Matilda rounded the corner then, plump and wary, and Persephone stood, brushing down the shimmered silk of her skin tight gown. Matilda wrung her hands anxiously, looking around the vast, empty planes. "Persephone," she murmured, and Persephone resisted the urge to sneer. She had so  _obviously_ been human recently, and though the ambrosia had made her somewhat bearable to be around, she still spoke like a human, still walked like a human. She still acted human. "I'm not sure I should be here, really. Zeus won't like it-"

"You're one of over ten thousand wives." Persephone informed boredly, closing the remaining distance between them when it became apparent that Matilda would walk no further forward. Persephone wondered if she was exuding bad rays now that she was rebelling against Zeus. She wondered if her actions were changing the way she was perceived. She rather hoped they were. "He won't even notice you've gone."

Matilda hugged herself, clearly uncomfortable in the thick white garment. She had large eyes, Persephone noticed jealously, though as a whole not especially pretty, her eyes were wide and grey with streaks of purple. She'd never seen anything like it. "W-well, what do you want? You're Persephone, right? P-people are talking about you. Zeus knows all about you and whatever you're planning!" 

"We're not  _people._ " She groaned, twirling a strand of her hair between her fingers. It cast a few wet drops of blue here and there. "We're gods. And I'm not surprised he knows. But I know things about Zeus, Miranda. Would you like to hear them?" 

"I-it's Matilda." 

"He's going to get you pregnant, that much I'm sure you know. But it's a condition, and a small one, to becoming a goddess, right?" She smiled cruelly, and Matilda cast her gaze away over the scarlet grass. "You know what he's going to do to that child? He's going to murder him. He's going to crush him in one hand and cast him out of Olympus. And then, at best, he'll forget you, or at worse, at he'll get rid of you for space." 

Matilda looked frozen; beautiful eyes wide and petrified. "W-what?" She whispered, disbelieving but fixed. "N-no-"

"I'm risking far too much to entice you to join me with lies," she informed cooly. "He's done it to every other wife in that magnificent mountain palace you live in. Ask around, convince them to join you, and come to me," she held out her hand, a red petal lying in her palm. Matilda stared at it, but didn't take it. "I'm organising gods to come together, to oust Zeus. I want control of the ambrosia. No more humans should be allowed to become Gods, and he shouldn't be the one to decide which gods die. He shouldn't be able to decide that your future child-" she pointed to Matilda's stomach "-is going to die before it can even know who it's mother is." 

"You're going to make that decision be the mothers?" She asked excitedly, and Persephone softened her smile. 

 _Not_ _exactly._ "Precisely. It's your child, after all. And you strike me as someone who would make an excellent mother, Matilda."

She nodded, scared but grappling with the idea of having a game-plan. "I'll talk to the others, and then if...if it's right, and we can do something, you'll do something-" tears sprang to her cheeks, "you're giving women the choice! I-I understand now why Zeus despises you, it's all about toxic masculinity, right? We need to stop him, all of us, us women-"

"Goddesses."

"Right! Yes, and we can stop him!" She reached forward and snatched the petal out of Persephone's hand. "How do I contact you with this?"

Persephone tried her hardest to keep the kind smile on her face. Whatever human ludicrousness got this woman through each day, she supposed, though she understood nothing of what she was babbling on about. "After you've talked to the others, and generated some backing, simply tear the petal. I'll appear, so tear it somewhere safe. Somewhere Zeus is not around." Matilda nodded desperately, before biting her bottom lip. 

She looked so grateful and human that Persephone felt a little sickened. "Thank you," she whispered desperately, "you truly are a goddess, thank you! Thank you!"

Zephyr's Olympian wind was blowing then, harder, to take Matilda away, and Persephone kept the smile fixed firmly in place until she was gone. 

And then it was just her, and her beauty and the red, red crops of Aaru. 

 

Betty hardly recognised the girl in the photos. 

She looked candid and beautiful, and all sharp angles and soft curves. She and Jughead were hunched over the laptop in her bedroom, the evening twilight seeping in through the window as they examined all the photos of the day. "And see here," he continued, pointing to the three freckles on the underside of her jaw, "how they match the bark behind you? Like daytime stars. And here-" he pointed to the curl of her hair over her ear, "-like the sun, and I wanted to get it to match the light coming through the branches-"

Betty caught his hands in her face and kissed him. They parted in surprise against her, but she didn't care. She could feel the blood pulsing in her ears, and the burning on her cheeks, and he was impossibly soft and captivating against her. She was just debating whether or not to slide her tongue against his lips when he pulled away from her; only a few millimetres, her hands still on his face. His pupils were blown wide with lust and his cool breath fanned over her face.

"Betty," he whispered, "I'm not using my power-"

"No," she breathed back, wide smile on her face at the thought of how broken he looked merely at the prospect of forcing her. "No, you're not."

He relaxed in her grip, and reached his own hand up to brush across her neck. "But you're using yours," he teased, "I'm completely enchanted."

She kissed him again, just as softly, but this time he pushed back against her, hand curling around the back of her neck to keep her near. They didn't move any closer than that, and Betty could feel the tension in his shoulders; he was wound tight to keep his powers in check, and she wanted to work on that at a later point, but for now, she sighed into the flavour of his lips, and the softness of his skin.

And when getting for ready for bed that night; dazed and flushed, she thought of the day. Thought of photos and sandwiches and wading ankle deep through rivers and petting deer.

She thought that she rather liked the freckles under her jaw, and probably wouldn't get rid of them if she had the chance. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your reviews, as always, are an intense gift. I love every single one of you for taking the time to type it out and for kudosing or even just reading.
> 
> You are all treasures, and I am infinitely grateful to be part of this fandom.
> 
> Tumblr: typing123 
> 
> Mwah mwah mwah MWAH MWAH *wipes lipstick off your face*
> 
> xxx


	6. Ambrosia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A lucky lady comes to town.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been too long! I hope you
> 
> Enjoy!

Betty had been posting a few of Jughead's shots on an instagram account she'd created, and they'd been generating some traction. She smiled to herself, scrolling through the comments. Most of them, oddly enough, seemed to be in Spanish, but the heart emoji transcended language barriers and she shook her head fondly as the like number grew to 50,000. It's more than she's got on all of her photos combined and quadrupled, but she'd tagged them effectively and people were responding to the sheer beauty in of the photographs. The ones with herself in them are posted too, not all of them, but ones that Jughead had seemed most enthusiastic about. She refused to look at the comment for those, but scrolled through the account as a whole; mightily pleased with herself. 

The warm Saturday morning sun had lit her room gold, and she snuggled further into her blankets as she flicked through her laptop. It was just like her, she thought, to fall for a god. How long was he even going to remain on earth? He wasn't even  _human,_ and yet here she was; dazed and enthralled. He was so different from anyone she had ever met, which of course stood to reason, but it still amazed her every time. His zestful enthusiasm for eating and the way he stared at her when she talked; listening and present as if she were the most important thing in that moment. How he saw beauty in everything when he had come to earth so determined not to see any. 

She'd spent a few hours of the early morning googling Aphrodite, and humming at what was true and false. The flower association has been deadly accurate, and when she'd reached the wikipedia entry on Adonis, she'd paused uncertainly. Eventually she had succumbed to her curiosity and read the tragic entry, before blinking back tears and closing the tab. Was it fair? That she could read these lies and truths about him? He'd been so open with her, and would most likely tell her all she wanted to know if she asked. It was marvel to think that no one knew he really existed. That they were more than just myths and legends, that they were  _real._ Her laptop pinged as someone commented something with a ridiculous amount of hearts onto a photo of the forest that Jughead had taken, and she smiled, turning to look at the door when the soft knocking against the wood sounded.

She beamed, closing her laptop and setting it down next to her; patting down her messy hair and clearing her throat. "Come in!" She called, and froze at the sight of Veronica Lodge. Veronica Lodge standing there in all her expensive, dark glory looking as perfect as usual without a strand out of place.

Her best friend snorted elegantly at the sight of her and strolled into her room as if she owned it. "No need to look so pleased to see me, B," she teased, setting her purse down at the foot of Betty's bed and tugging off her silk gloves. She examined her reflection in the mirror, before turning to admire the view from the window. "Your mom let me in. She said you'd be happy to see me, but..."

"Of course I'm happy to see you!" Betty gushed, rushing out of bed to hug her. They embraced tightly and Veronica smiled at her. "I've missed you so much, V, but things here have been..."

Veronica looked pointedly towards the slow movement of the distant green. "Busy over here on the farm?" She taunted lightly, shaking her head with a smile. "I got a little worried when you didn't message and thought maybe your mom had gone a little crazy on you, and I remembered that you'd offered me your sister's room for the summer..." she lifted her eyebrows with an expectant look, "I thought I'd take you up on it!" 

Shit. "Shit." Betty whispered, and Veronica scoffed; watching as her best friend started to pace. Betty glared at the floor and gritted her teeth over the smug smile her mom was probably wearing downstairs. She turned to her friend, a desperate look on her face.

The raven haired girl blinked, before nodding slowly. "I don't  _have_ to stay here, B. There's plenty of nice hotels in town, and I could easily rent a car."

Guilt uncoiled lethally in Betty's stomach and she groaned, collapsing her head into Veronica's chest when the taller girl pulled her in for a tight embrace. "No, V, it's not that I don't want you, it's just...it's really hard to explain." She breathed in the expensive perfume, and felt soothed as Veronica's hands rubbed up at down her back non-judgementally. "Someone's already using Polly's room and I sorta told my mom he was my boyfriend."

Veronica pulled back a little, a smirk on her face. "But he's  _not_ a boyfriend?" She clarified, and Betty blushed. The latina laughed triumphantly. "Do you have a secret boyfriend you've been hiding from me?" She demanded, standing back and placing her hands on her hips. "When were you going to tell me?" Her eyes glittered eagerly and Betty slumped her face into her hands in dismay.

"He's not my real boyfriend! I only met him like a week ago-"

"And he's living here?" Veronica frowned, a little taken aback. "Wow, you sure move quickly when you like them," she winked and Betty groaned loudly. She moved forward to grab the rich girl's hands and stared at her earnestly. 

"You have to go along with this, okay? I told my mom we met in college, his name's Jughead, he takes photography, you think he's great-"

"Hey, Betts," came a curious voice and both women whipped around to see Jughead; shirtless with pyjama pants slung low on his hips. His hair was rumpled with sleep and his eyes half closed as he held a small clock in his hands that was shaking. "How do you make this stop again? I forgot." 

Betty fought her blush and walked over to him, plucking the clock from his hands and pushing the button. He grinned down at her gratefully. "Here you go."

"You're the best," he murmured, leaning down to kiss her cheek. Betty watched then as his eyes noticed Veronica, and he looked up; surprised. His eyes shot to Betty and the blonde dragged her fingers through her tangled hair and gestured between them both. 

"Jughead this is my best friend Veronica, Veronica this is my boyfriend Jughead." She introduced in a rush, before she collapsed onto her bed and watched them. Jughead swallowed thickly, and he looked ridiculously handsome. The lean lines of muscle and softness of his frame; an effortless beauty that stood in stark contrast to the poised elegance of Veronica. He nodded at her; eyes appraising. Betty thought he probably saw some similarity between Veronica and the vogue model pictures he'd looked at but it was hard to tell. Veronica's face, on the other hand, was much easier to read. Her pupils were wide and her lips were parted and there was a light, rosy glow across her cheeks as she took the picture of Jughead in. Betty waited for the worry and threatened feelings to come flooding in- but they didn't. She realised with a small hum that she wasn't worried that Jughead would prefer Veronica to her, not now that she knew how adamant Jughead was about her specific look. 

For once, she didn't envy the smoky eyes and darker hue of her best friend. She was absurdly happy to be Betty. 

"Jughead," Veronica purred smoothly, offering out her hand. "It's wonderful to meet you."

Jughead nodded, looking at her hand quizzically. He shot Betty another look; begging for help with his eyes, but before she could aptly interpret it, he was picking up Veronica's hand and instead of shaking it, was placing a smooth kiss onto it. Both girls stared at him; wide eyed, and he flustered a little. It was a good look on him, Betty thought. Very human. "Nice to meet you also, Veronica. As Betty's...best friend, you must be of very high quality." 

Veronica laughed; eyes twinkling in amusement. She brushed a long, dark lock behind her ear. "I definitely am. But  _you_ are quite the specimen, aren't you?" 

Jughead shrugged a little bashfully. "I hope Betty thinks so."

Veronica looked between them both and smirked. "She definitely does." 

Breakfast was everything Betty feared it would be. It was her, Veronica, Jughead and her parents sitting around the breakfast table in a state of uncomfortable silence. Her mother, never one for letting things lie, broke it happily as she passed around the fruit bowl. "So, Veronica, how do you like Jughead? I trust you know him a lot better than I do." She met Betty's eyes purposely, but the blonde kept them focused on her toast. 

Veronica was more graceful. "Jughead and I take a few elects together. To be honest, I totally knew they were endgame before they got together. Look at him," she waved her fork airily in Jughead's direction. "He's totally smitten." 

Betty beamed, and Alice frowned. Hal snorted as he cut into his bacon, and Jughead grinned bemusedly. "Of course I was. Betty's an angel." His eyes widened momentarily, and they darted to the other members of the family. "You still believe in angels, right?" 

Immediately, Betty laughed high and awkward to ease away any confusion, and was blessed when her mother was called into work early. The three of them sat around the table, watching as Hal ate his food blissfully unaware. Veronica's eyes twinkled with merriment and Betty was trying to answer the indecipherable facial expressions Jughead was giving her. It was a relief to stumble out into the sunshine and into a sense of rural freedom.

 

* * * 

 

_"Well," Persephone sighed, leaning against the bark of a tree as she twirled the whistle in her fingers. "You're much less than I expected. And I expected very little."_

_The muscular man frowned at her, standing slowly from where he'd been collecting water in the river. His eyes widened as he fully took her in; the wet blueness of her hair and the ferocity in her gentle eyes. He craned his neck around her then, as if searching for someone else._

_She laughed. "I'm afraid Aphrodite isn't here. He's been predisposed. My fault, I'm afraid. No worries," the cool silver of the whistle glinted in the earthly light. "He's not really needed for our plans anyway."_

_The human took a shaky step away; comprehension dawning slowly. "You're not his friend."_

_Her smile was cold as steel. "No." She whispered, pushing off from the bark and taking a stalking step towards him. "I'm so much more than his friend. I'm his lover. His future wife." Her watery hair swirled into endless tsunami around her perfectly carved ears, and he cowered in the face of her frightening beauty. "I am everything to him that you will never be. That you could never be. You are just human. I am so much more."_

_Tears had sprung into his eyes. "Aphrodite!" He called into the wind, throat scratchy and desperate for help. "Aphrodite!"_

_"He can't hear you," Persephone laughed, bringing the whistle to her mouth and blowing once; shortly, sweetly, a delicate chime instantly forgotten in the breeze._

_There was silence for a long moment, before she cocked her head and grinned. The distant sound of leaves rustling. Adonis stared into the brush; human eyes too weak to see. He took another step back, tripping on his pails of collected water and landing hard on his back. He shoved himself against the mud: heart racing._

_A boar; angry and huffing, bolted through the tree line._

_He scrambled to his feet, turning to run but caught before he'd taken three steps._

_Persephone watched with a victorious smile, and moderated her features into grief and tragedy. "Aphrodite!" She screamed into the sky, kicking herself up back towards the clouds. "Aphrodite! Mount Olympus, Aphrodite! Something terrible has happened!"_

 

* * * 

 

Jughead liked Veronica. 

He liked her for a number of reasons. Firstly, she was everything he'd assumed human beings would be when he first came to earth; entitled and money focused. But she also transcended his expectations. She cared for Betty deeply, and was cunning, almost as cunning as Cheryl. He felt a small fondness for her when he noticed their likeness, and he also appreciated the way she dressed. Fashion was a type of beauty and Veronica Lodge was bestowed. She made the most of her lean physique and wore dark, lilac colours that complimented the desert-sand tan of her skin tone. 

She also photographed extraordinarily. She thrived before the camera, and Jughead had eagerly taken photos of her. She'd changed outfits instantly and enthusiastically, offering her own insights into human fashion, and whilst he felt she didn't have the raw elegance of Betty, she had a poised sense of refined ease that filtered into picture beautifully. He'd happily followed her through fields of amber and daisies, snapping away whilst Betty laughed and trailed along beside him; picking flowers and sewing them with her fingers into a crown. A crown he was currently wearing. His crown had been the only one to survive their morning excursion through landscapes, but that didn't surprise him. Though natural things on earth shied away from him, plants and flowers in particular had always responded to his energy. He was certain that if he examined the daisy chain, the flowers would be more beautiful now than they had been when Betty first plucked them. 

He watched, laughing, as Betty made a disgruntled face and tugged the stems from her hair where they were strewn; broken and brown. The afternoon sun was high and hot in the sky, and he let the camera thump against his chest as Veronica lay with her eyes closed on the stump of a tree. She was tanning, apparently. Something humans were now doing for fun rather than the toiling necessity of being outdoors. He remembered fondly the humans he'd seen in past days smearing lead paint onto their faces; when pale had been perfection. How times changed. He reached forward, and pulled a stem from the golden locks, and held it in his hand. It blossomed back into a lopsided daisy. 

Betty rolled her eyes at him, plucking it out of his fingers. "Show off." She muttered, trying to thread them back together. He laughed, lifting his camera to try and document her struggles. "If you take photos of this, I will kill you." She informed seriously, not looking up from where her thumb and forefinger were trying to slide a flower through a tiny hole. He punctuated her threat with the snap of the shutter. She glared at him, and he tossed his head back in delight. 

"You know," he murmured, clicking away, looking at her through the lens. "When you threaten me, it's like this angel fish trying to be a shark. You're not a shark, Betty, and you don't scare me!" He informed proudly. 

She threw him a subtle middle finger and he struggled for a moment to understand what it meant. Something derogatory he was sure. "You're all about the angel comparisons today," she mused, and he tipped his head in acknowledgment, setting down his camera as she placed the precarious crown back onto her head. He threw her a pitying glance, and strengthened a few of the bonds with a subtle wave of his hand. She beamed at him, tiptoeing up to kiss his cheek. "So you  _can_ be a gentlemen under all that annoying?" 

He winked at her. "Only for you."

"Oh my god," Veronica laughed, eyes now open, with an arm up to shield her face from the sun. "You two are literally the cutest thing ever. You need to be dating for real." 

On understanding that dating meant something along the strain of being Betty's _real_ boyfriend; Jughead grinned, nodding. "How about it, Betty? Date me for real?" He offered out his hand, unsure if there was a more formal way to ask. But the blush on her sun kissed face made him feel like he'd done it right. She looked down at the grass, and nodded a little. He grinned, giddily jogging over to Veronica to bask in his victory, and when he turned back, Betty was watching him with a heart-touched, private smile. 

It was just another thing to like Veronica for. He also didn't have to work hard to temper down his powers. Being with Betty had forced his powers deep within in his desperation not to force her into anything, and he was extending the same courtesy to Veronica. He could still read the attraction coming off her, but he could also sense that she'd...well, that she'd worshipped rather recently. Her skin seemed to shine with the glitter that came only from regular sex with a loved one. She must be attached. He glanced at her ring finger, and wondered whether wedding rings were still human tradition. He wondered if Betty would wear a ring he made her. He'd use the most precious stones, he'd capture the crystals of the rainbow to embed it into a diamond for her. He wondered if she'd accept it. And spent the rest of the languid day perusing the matter.

 

She sighed beside him whilst they lay in bed that night. Veronica was going to be staying in Betty's room, apparently, and as the raven-haired girl set up something called an  _air mattress,_ Betty had snuck in to say goodnight. She'd found him sprawled on the clean sheets, and kneeled on the soft mattress to wrap him into a hug. A lot of what she said passed him by. Something about a website and people enjoying his photos, which made him happy. "I had fun," she said, as he trailed his fingers lazily up and down her bare arm. He understood pyjamas now, and appreciated the comfort of stretchy material. "I'm so happy you and Veronica get on."

"She's nice," he said honestly, "I doubt you'd hold yourself in company that wasn't nice." He nodded. "Very worthy to be your friend."

She snorted, peeking a look up at him through long lashes. She smelt of toothpaste and her hair was up in a messy bun that reminded him of the long, forgotten greeks. Their first humans. His heart panged a little. "You're so silly," she murmured, but her eyes were on his lips.

He leaned down to sate their mutual craving, and had to forcibly keep his powers from surging through his blood and bubbling to the surface. It made him feel so young. Sex with humans was...not forbidden. Demi-gods proved that. But dangerous. Humans were breakable, he knew that more than anyone. His thoughts wandered to Adonis, and the brawny ease of his smile. They wandered to his lifeless form, prodded and bloody and covered with mud. Long dead. He pulled away from her, trying to hide the sadness, and managed a smile. He brushed his fingers against her perfect cheek, and she blushed bright and beautiful beneath him. 

"I should go to bed," she murmured, and he nodded. "V is thinking of inviting her boyfriend down. She feels like a third wheel."

Jughead thought that third wheels from their name, sounded beneficial. Didn't those metal engines they took everywhere have four? "We should all have fun together." He said instead, and she got off the bed and waved shyly. A goodbye and a goodnight till tomorrow. 

He was suddenly feeling washed cold from the inside out. He curled up on his side and stared at photos of the Coopers. Humans were breakable. Humans  _died._ He could see Betty in his mind, covered with blood and crying out for him, and him never reaching her in time. He could imagine the loss of her warm touches and big blue eyes; now glassy. He could picture her swimming with Toni's other souls, and he could hardly bear it. His heart was starting to thump hard in his chest. Immortal and pained. The thought of her gone, of her just  _no more_ was sending him into a fit of anguish.

It was enough to force him out of bed, gasping for air, as he tore at the comfortable nightshirt. He staggered over to the window, and with godly strength ripped it upwards; rust and creaky reluctance from disuse nothing in the face of his powers. The night air swathed over his cheeks, and he pushed himself outside and leapt with all his might out of the window and into the sky. He felt sick. Sick at the thought of this divine woman, this golden haired beauty, disappearing. Her heart was too pure, was too rare to be gone. Ever. 

The wind sailed past his ears and the atmosphere burned brilliantly against his skin before he landed on his hands and knees on cool, marble flooring. The tiles cracked with the force of his fall. He drew in jagged breaths and when his vision focused, he saw the perfect feet of his sister. He gazed up from her toes, to the rest of the fearless form of Cheryl. She was staring down at him, armour glinting gold. She arched an eyebrow, probably to say something scathing, but he shoved at her shins in desperation. "I need to see Zeus." He insisted, gasping. Adonis was behind every blink now. He could remember the temples, the anger, the pain. He could see Betty, in his grasp and yet only temporary. "I need the ambrosia." 

Cheryl stared down at him, lips parted and eyes wide. "What? Jughead!" 

He pulled himself to his feet, swaying, and she reached out to steady him. There was a scar on her cheek. He stared at it blankly. He'd never seen anything mar her skin. She noticed, and her eyes stared right back at him. "Someone struck you," he murmured; confused. She swallowed, and he saw her throat bob. It came back to him then. Persephone and the problems that were happening. "Did you talk to Hermes? Did he do this to you?" He was frowning hard now. He didn't even know Cheryl could be struck. 

"It was one of Zeus' wives. She snuck into my temple. She used one of my arrows. They're the only thing that can damage me. I took care of her."

Jughead frowned, his hands resting on Cheryl's shoulders. For balance, and support. "Black ambrosia?" He guessed.

She shook her head. "Zeus starred her. It was considered an act of betrayal."

"I see." He took her in, hugely relieved that she was alright. The sight of her made him realise that he'd missed her tremendously. How long had he even been gone? All his time with Betty seemed dazed and continuous; a state of bliss that he was now jarred out of. "Are we in trouble?"

Cheryl's voice was proud and certain a she admitted: "More than I thought. I can take her. The win will just be better won." 

"I don't doubt it." He concurred, images of earlier days flooding back to him. He remembered fighting side by side with Cheryl, he remembered the heaviness of the armour on his skin. There was no beauty to be found on a battle field, and he'd become weak so quickly. He wasn't much help, but he'd be there; sword in hand, if she needed him.

"Now," she rose her eyebrows, crossing her arms and looking every inch the warrior goddess he knew her to be. "Why the hell do you need ambrosia?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if you like, leave a comment/prompt/declaration of love on the way out, I guarantee it would mean the world to me
> 
> tumble with me at: typing123
> 
> PS 
> 
> Your consistent comments and encouragements honestly keep me going. Whether you just hit kudos, smash the keys, or leave a favourite quote, it all means the entire world to me. This story is for you guys, who, wherever you are, are reading and enjoying. Thank you for being awesome, and I hope you have a good day! xx
> 
> MWAH MWAH


	7. Rejection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jughead rejects some pre-conceptions. 
> 
> Betty rejects...something else.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

"I need-"

"Ambrosia, yes," Zeus sighed heavily, idly examining the small, glowing orb in his hand. There was a large basket full of other, shining, semi-transulent orbs sitting just beside his throne, and Jughead swallowed. He felt small in the immensity of this huge mountain hall. Empty completely, bar the marble tiles; the sky ceiling and the giant, rhodium throne. Zeus' long white hair cascaded in choice ringlets down his shoulders, and he dropped the orb carelessly back into the basket. It clinked loudly, echoing like glass through the room. "I saw you and the mortal. Fallen in love again, my son? I hadn't thought it possible." 

Jughead nodded, feeling self-conscious in the human clothing. "I mean, you fall in love all the time." He offered.

"Yes, I do," the god chuckled, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "But you and I are very different, are we not? I am, however, glad to see that you have healed from the tragedy." Zeus tutted. "You did not deserve what befell you." 

He closed his eyes and willed away the images. He drew in a ragged breath and tried to calm himself. Here, back on Olympus, his powers were begging to be released; strong from their enforced containment. Restless. "Why were you watching me on earth, anyway? Aren't there more concerning things going on? Like Persephone? One of your wives stole Cheryl's arrows. They marked her." 

Zeus gestured to the basket at his mighty feet. "Don't think she went unpunished, son."

The stars were glittering above them, and if Jughead strained, he could hear Asteria singing high in the sky. "Are you going to grant it to me? You did last time." He pointed out, and fought not to flush as Zeus scrutinised him. The elder god waved his hand and a loud creaking sound rang through the hall, before part of the wall slid open and out flew an object. A small, grey pouch landed in Zeus' lap and he held it up. 

"I've been watching, Jughead, because there's something about your girl." He hummed, tossing the bag from one palm to another as if it wasn't Jughead's entire future. "The Fates have a feeling about her too, though you know how they are..." he chuckled, a little amused. "They like their secrets and their games. All good things, I believe. I hope she makes you very happy." 

Jughead nodded, swallowing thickly. He took a shaky step forward towards the bag. "She does." 

Zeus tossed it to him and he caught it with a breath of relief. "Good. Then I encourage you to train her quickly and bring her here. A war is coming soon, Cheryl must have told you that." 

The gore and ugliness of the battlefield was a frightening prospect on the ever-dawning horizon. "I'm not going to train her to fight. She's not going to be a part of this. I'll change her and make sure she's somewhere safe." A thought occurred to him. "You aren't recruiting humans, are you? We have...we have enough gods on Olympus more than happy to fight at your side." Most of them, he imagined. No one ever really liked to side against Cheryl. He watched as Zeus conjured a plate of food, and internally winced at it. It looked slimy and unappetising, nothing to the warm glow of the carrots and other fresh vegetables (he can't remember what they're called) that he's seen the Cooper's prepare. Also...it seems lazy, now. To just conjure it like that. Where was the peeling? The boiling? The slicing? It didn't taste as good, surely, without doing it yourself? 

"You can never have enough soldiers in a war," Zeus informed him, "and after we've won-" he gestured to the blue over their heads, "there are simply more stars in the sky for humans to wish on." 

Jughead stepped back; stricken. That seemed...wrong. Had Zeus always been like that? Had the leader of the gods changed since he'd been away or- his eyes landed on the veal that Zeus was chewing. No. No Zeus hadn't changed at all.  _He'd_ changed. And now that he had, Zeus's views seemed...seemed...his eyes landed once again on the bag of orbs. "Did she get a trial?" He whispered, voice thick. Though he was glad that the goddess who had hurt Cheryl was no longer, it suddenly seemed...unfair, that...that...

"A trial?" Zeus repeated, frowning. "Jughead?"

"Nothing," he whispered quickly, clutching the bag in his palm. He felt off-kilter. He was changed. Betty had changed him. "Nothing. I'm going to...I'm going to go back to earth." 

Zeus smiled warmly. "Yes, to your loved one." 

He nodded jerkily, turning away. Out of the palace and down the steps, he conjured a gold leaf and began to scrawl his thoughts. As Hermes was no longer a reliable messenger, he stopped by Cheryl's home. She wasn't there, and he set the leaf down on her bed, hoping she would take him up on his offer. As he walked towards the portal, he noticed something and he wasn't sure how he felt about it. For all the immensity of Zeus's mountain home, for all the glass and ice and snow that shaped and twisted into wondrous shapes, he wasn't being charged the same way he was on earth. For the first time in his existence, the beauty of Olympus had fallen out of his personal favour. The grandeur and the majesty was nothing to the curve of Betty's pink lips. 

He wanted nothing more than to kiss her. 

He was so taken with the thought of kissing her again. Remembering how she felt against him, the surging rush of passion so entirely  _mortal_ that for the second time in his existence, he tripped through the portal and crashed down into earth. 

The atmosphere rushed past his ears and he crashed with an almighty splash that became an enormous wave, into the middle of the ocean. The momentum pushed him deep into darkness, and just before he could push himself up, a light appeared around him. Smug and serene, Neptune crossed his arms expectantly. "Aphrodite," he greeted in a deep, bubbled voice. His eyes landed on the bag in Jughead's palm. "Found new love, I hear?" 

Jughead didn't like talking underwater, but sucked in the arid taste of the salt for courtesies sake. Shoving the ambrosia into his pocket he spoke. "My true one. Like you have. Sorry to..." he gestured to the water all around them, his arm moving sluggishly through the droplets as they fought in desperation to get away from him. "Infringe." 

Neptune chuckled, teeth brilliant emerald, before reaching forward and shoving Jughead up to the surface. Gurgling on the white foam he focused and whirled himself back into Polly's bedroom in the blink of an eye, and dripped onto the carpet. He was surprised to see that it was daylight outside. He half smiled to himself. The entire thing was far too jarring. Which ocean had he even just been in? It had been night there. He was sure the humans kept changing ocean names just to be pedantic. He could hear running water and he tilted his head to listen. Veronica was in the shower, it would appear, and Betty was-

the knock came just before he pegged her. 

"Hi?" He called, because he couldn't remember the proper greeting. Betty opened the door; a vision of loveliness again today, he could feel himself relax just by looking at her. Her blonde hair was swept up into a complex style that meant only a few stray curls fell into her neck, and she wore a cream sweater. Black...tights? Jeans? Trousers? Something he couldn't quite recall finished the ensemble. She was staring at him; disbelief radiating off her in waves. He looked down at himself. He was soaking wet, of course, but the water was in quite the hurry to get off him and onto the floor. Perhaps that was what surprised her? Humans cared about things like floors. Even lovely wonderful humans like Betty. "Morning, sorry about the-"

"It's 3pm in the afternoon, Juggie!" She exclaimed, laughter in her voice, so he could only assume she wasn't too angry. 

"Is it?" He nodded, swiping a hand through his hair. Humans liked to fixate on time. "Is that bad?" 

She laughs in amazement. "I didn't know where you were! I thought-" she cuts herself off, but Jughead walks towards her, intrigued. He can read her emotions anyway, he knows what she thought. It's endearing. She was  _worried_ about him. 

He reaches out to touch her arms, mindful, always mindful, of keeping his powers in check. "I didn't think I'd be gone so long. I forgot about how quickly time can pass here if you're not paying attention." He pulled her gently towards him, and tipped her chin up. "I was thinking about kissing you all night." 

Immediately, a beautiful rosy blush spread across her cheeks. "You were not." 

How can she not know how besotted he is? He thinks of the bag in his pocket. She will soon. "I was," he murmured, leaning forward slowly, eyes peeled for any sign of reluctance, before their lips are pressed together. 

Jughead is the god of love and sex and beauty and he's done infinite things infinite ways. He knows lust and pleasure as if he personifies them, which he does. He's been electrified with heat and passion and made goddess and gods alike, scream louder than thunder. But it's this- this right here, this  _kissing_ Betty, this simple act of contact that reaches him more than anything. It rocks him to his very core and as much he wants to do more, he's petrified that he might unravel- start coming apart at the seams. Burst and fray like a beam of light. He pulls away even though all he wants to do is keep tasting her lips; worried that his power may be surfacing without his knowledge. 

She grabs his shoulders, now dry, and pulls him in again. He moans, caught off guard when her teeth find his bottom lip and he wraps his arms around her waist so that she's his entirely. For all the years he's been the god of love, he wonders whether he's ever truly known what it meant. He thought he had it with Adonis but this...this seems like a blaze compared to an ember. There is no comparison. Her hand finds his hair, and his finger brush her spine, sneaking up the back of her cream sweater. He goes no higher than that. This bliss. This bliss is something he could and will crave for eternity. 

He remembers the bag. 

"Betty," he whispers, pulling away form her. She's breathless and her lips are plump and red and he can't resist leaning in again for a quick peck. "I have something really important to ask you. Is there somewhere we could go?" 

She blinks in surprise, trying to focus and he likes that he can cause such a reaction. It's how she makes him feel all the time. She nods slowly. "Uh, sure, how about the lake in the forest?" She smiles again, "where we first met?" He nods, giddy at her sentimentality, and heads for the door. She grabs his arm. "Wait, Veronica! She's going shopping today but we can't leave without telling her." 

Jughead doesn't mind the delay. It just means more time for kissing. 

...

...

...

_She may be right about some things_

Cheryl stares at it, warring emotions rising inside her as she stares out over the distant seas of Moksha. The breeze fans her flames and the three suns do their best to burn her skin. They fail, of course. Toni is a silent, steadying wall beside her. Neither have spoken since she'd arrived, they both just stare out over the oceans of bronze. After the silence becomes unbearable, Cheryl closes her eyes. "He's suggesting we don't go to war, Toni." 

The lilac-haired goddess said nothing, unsure what was expected of her. 

"He's suggesting we sit down with her. Sit down with her and  _talk."_ Cheryl winces in disgust. It goes against her very nature. She turns to Toni, but she still gets no response. "He actually wrote that Persephone might be right about something! That's what he actually wrote! His time away from Olympus has driven him mad, I'm sure of it. Turning his back on Zeus-"

"Is that what it says?" Toni chides gently, "or did he just ask for you to sit down and talk to Persephone with him? You know he's at the core of why she's doing this, it doesn't seem like such a bad idea." At Cheryl's look, she hurries to continue. "I know you're the goddess of war, and as much as I would love to collect the bodies of those you slaughtered, maybe bloodshed isn't the way to do this?" 

Cheryl shook her head, casting her gaze back over to the distance. The sun cut streaks of gold across her face. "He never should have been with her." She whispered protectively. "She's caused nothing but trouble and I want her dead. You don't bargain with someone like her. I know we've never had any proof but-"

"Cheryl," Toni warned, but the she barrelled on. 

"She had to have something to do with Adonis' death."

Toni sighed at the old accusation. "Persephone is a messed up goddess, but she wouldn't do something like that. It was an accident remember? A wild boar went-"

Cheryl froze. What was it she had seen above the gates of Havana? Hung there like a trophy for everyone to see? Boar tusks. Ice filled her templed body and she stared back down at the letter Jughead had written her. Fierceness and love for her brother throbbed inside her on equal terms with vengeance and rage. "You're right," she said through a snarl. "We all do need to sit down and have a nice, long _talk_." 

...

...

...

Betty stared at the innocuous looking, brown cloth bag. She was sitting with her legs crossed on the banks of the shallow lake, Jughead mirroring her position. A few animals had wandered over; a deer and some bunnies, just enjoying being near him. So too had a few flowers burst out of the ground. But she could notice none of them. Her eyes stayed on the brown bag in her hand. Very carefully, she pulled the string and it fell open in her palm to reveal a vial of gold liquid. Unnatural looking. Like melted metal. She stared at it. She could feel Jughead's eyes on her and she swallowed thickly. She could imagine it tasting rather unpleasant.

Become a goddess. It was...unfathomable. it was too much, it was- it was  _love_ he was admitting to her now. It was an entire different life, it was a...she wouldn't be a human anymore. What about her mom? What about Polly and her dad? What about her friends- what about her degree? 

"Juggie..." she whispered, staring at it. "This is..."

"Our future." He assured her quietly. A robin flew down to perch on his shoulder. "Betty, I love you. I want you with me always and forever, and for it to be  _forever,_ you have to be able to live forever and..." his voice cracked. "I've loved and lost and I shan't again, Betty. Not with you. I couldn't bear it." 

It was so wildly romantic. It was ludicrously insane. "I understand," she began slowly, "that what happened to Adonis-" she winced apologetically for saying his name, "-was awful, but...mortality is...this is a change of state, I...I don't even know how to begin to answer this Jughead. It's certainly not an answer I can give you now but...but...I'm not certain it would be yes at all." 

He seemed relatively undeterred by what she thought may be interpreted as rejection. "I'll stay and protect you until you take it." He vowed, shamrock eyes glittering in the sunlight that fractured through the foliage. "If I have go to Olympus then you shall come with me. I love you and I won't ever leave you for a moment unless I know you will be truly safe. Protected. There is so much that can harm humans. Disease, accidents, earthquakes- what if you tripped and hit your head?" 

She had to bite back her smile. It was a serious situation, after all. His worry was sweet though, even though she understood how founded it was. This was more than a proposal. What he was giving her, offering her, was more than anyone got in a lifetime of loves. She was being offered more than she knew what to do with. More than she could comprehend. He'd borne his soul to her. He'd gone to Zeus (Zeus!) to get this for her. He'd declared and stated his intent to be with her for eternity.  _Eternity._ It was scary and thrilling and incomprehensible. Most twenty-something year olds try to keep partners for more than three months. She wondered if he was even aware of the significance of it all. He'd said he loved her as if it were the more normal progression of their relationship. 

Everything had happened so fast. A few months ago she was Betty Cooper; college student. Now here she was. Betty Cooper; potential god. 

The universe was bizarre. 

"I love you," she whispered slowly, meaning the words and inflecting all the sincerity and earnestness she could so he could understand how big of a deal this was. His eyes widened, and his lips parted and he was more beautiful than she'd ever seen. She was awed by his smile and the cut of his jaw and the intensity of those green eyes. But that awe did not blind her to reality.

His smile was wide and breathtaking, and it made the robin nuzzle his cheek. "Is that a yes?" He whispered hopefully.

Her heart clenched painfully in her chest as she stared down at her hands. "It's a maybe." She lied, squeezing the vial in her first. The glass was ice cold.

His kiss of joy eased her pain slightly, but it didn't leave its new found place of residence in her heart. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's been far too long and for that I can only apologise! It'll get better from here on out! Mwah mwah my lovelies! x

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a fairly good updater for this pairing, so expect maybe 2/3 a week :) 
> 
> I am always open to ideas/prompts for bughead story ideas for others in the series, or even for this story if you have a moment that should be included, a Riverdale Character you think would make an amazing god, or just a little scene that you think could be quite niche, comment it and I'll probably love it and include it. 
> 
> DISCLAIMER, I do not know much about anything in this world, let alone this. It's a story cuz Jughead is fineeeee and Betty is fineeeeee and I like writing them together ;) 
> 
> Mwah mwah beautiful people.
> 
> If you're debating leaving a comment or not, please do!!!! I'll love it, you'll love it, it'll be a big orgy of love! xxxx


End file.
